


Fathoms Deep

by lorcathegreat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Confinement, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorcathegreat/pseuds/lorcathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, renowned genius, playboy, philanthropist, is caught in the clutches of an enemy he thought to be destroyed. He was given an all-too familiar ultimatum: make weapons, or else. Or else what? The answer was simple: they would torture and kill his cellmate. But why should he care about the psychopathic God of Mischief? Post-Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stone Floors, Stone Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a monster. I've already finished writing and editing it, so expect an update about every three days. I had way too much fun writing this thing, so I hope you have fun reading it! The title came about because I wrote the majority of this while I was sailing across the Pacific Ocean from California to Hawaii. Inspiration came from reading The Prose Edda, which you really should read if you enjoy Loki and Thor. Get the Jessse Byock translation, so you can know exactly how Loki made Skadi laugh. In my depiction of Loki in this fic, I used a mix of Loki from the Marvel universe as well as from Norse mythology. Also, the translations for the Old Norse I use are in the end notes. I got them from the website "The Vikings of Bjornstad" as well as from the York University Old Norse Dictionary.  
> I already posted this on FF.net, but I figured I should post it here too.  
> Without further ado, enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t want to call the Avengers, Tony?”

 

Mechanical arms whirred around him. “Pepper, for the last time, I can handle this.” The usual closeness of the suit closed in around his limbs, joints screwed securely in place.

           

“It has the same readings as the last portal.” The helmet closed around Tony’s head as Pepper Potts stared up at him, a mixture of annoyance and concern showing plainly on her face.

           

Tony answered in his usual flippant way. “It’s probably just residual from the last one. Besides, I nuked the place. There shouldn’t be anything left.” The mask clanked down over his face, the screen flickering to life. Automatically, Jarvis ran through the usual diagnostics of the system and the Iron Man suit. Tony looked down at Pepper. Even through the digital image, she looked annoyed. Tony sighed. “If I’m not back by dinner, call the director.” Diagnostics complete, he engaged his thrusters and left his assistant-slash-CEO-slash-on-and-off-girlfriend behind, the brightness of the sun bouncing off the tall buildings of New York City taking her place in his field of vision.

           

The computer butler’s voice spoke clearly to Tony. “Should I make that an appointment, sir?”

           

“No need. Bring up the readings again, Jarvis.” Numbers flickered on the screen, steadily rising as he flew closer to the roof of the newly rebuilt Stark Tower. The air above it wavered with energy. “Bingo. Jarvis, calculate the exact wavelength and the counter-wavelength so we can cancel this mess out.” The screen flickered as he moved closer to the wavering air.

           

“Wavelength calculated, sir. Reconfiguring arc energy in the suit.”

           

Tony raised his arms towards the portal energy. “Alright, engage.” His repulsors powered up, and the suit went dark. That was not supposed to happen. Tony felt himself fall, and then he was hurtled skyward, though nothing gripped him. In his small view through the eye holes of his mask, he saw only darkness. He was falling… up? If Tony did not know better, he would have assumed that antigravity was taking effect. “Jarvis, give me readings.” No matter how he tried, he could not keep the nervousness out of his voice.

           

“Systems failing, sir.”

          

“Boot the backup,” Tony insisted, rapidly moving eyes staring into darkness.

           

“Backup failed, sir.”

           

“Reboot.” He was running out of options.

           

“I’m afraid I cannot, sir.”

           

“Well, what can you do?”

           

“Eject.”

           

 “Wait- what?” A jolt of fear ran through him. At this rate, he would be too high up in the stratosphere for there to be air to breathe. Then there was the small issue of falling to his death, if he indeed was falling up.

           

“Ejecting now, sir.” Jarvis’s voice was as calm as ever.

           

“No, wait-!”

           

Before Tony could even flinch, he was hurtled bodily from the suit. Flailing in the darkness, it was all he could do to not yell. Instead, he wrapped his arms about himself, trying to maintain a sense of- a sense of what? Not falling? Nope, he was still falling. Through space, dimensions, who knew what? His journey came to a sudden end when his shoulder struck a hard surface and he rolled to a stop. He finally opened his eyes and was met with more darkness, pure and complete.

           

“Well, shit.” Pressing up on the cold surface, Tony pulled himself to his feet, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his bruised shoulder. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Jarv.” There was no response from his butler. In truth, he had not expected one. He turned towards where he thought the suit would have landed when a sudden blinding light stopped him dead in his tracks. When his eyesight cleared, he found himself surrounded by the bioengineered lizard-like creatures that had tried to invade the Earth: the Chitauri.

           

“Well, shit again. Hey guys, sorry I blew up your-” The blunt end of one of their spears was thrust into his gut, making him double over in the shock of the pain. A bag was thrust over his head and tightened around his neck.

           

Tony’s heart raced, fear sparking red behind his eyes. The last time a bag has been put over his head, he had been a prisoner of war in Afghanistan. No good memories there. He had already had a lifetime of bags over his head. He was bound, hand and foot, all the while struggling for freedom. He was without his suit, feeling vulnerable as a snail without its shell. Pure adrenalin aided his strength, but he was easily overpowered without the added power of the suit. A sharp pain arced through the back of his head and a brilliant, but brief array of stars dashed across his vision.

           

He woke in a chair, head pounding and limbs bound tight. He opened his eyes, thankful that the bag had been removed. He quickly took in his surroundings, but what he saw brought him little comfort. A chitauri stood before him, just as bug-like and drooling as he remembered. Its sharp tongue made that far too familiar ear-wrenching screech.

           

Yet another disturbingly familiar voice spoke from just beside him. “He wants you to know his displeasure.” The voice was silky smooth, only a vague tendril of distain laced through the words. Tony turned from his captor to see Loki, the freakishly insane, power hungry, kneel-before-me God of Mischief sitting in a chair similar to his own, though he appeared unbound. In that quick sweep, Tony saw that they were both surrounded by fidgeting creatures, each with a mask over its lizard-like face. They hissed jeeringly at them, deathly spears at the ready.

           

The creature standing just before Tony turned and snarled at the god and spoke in a guttural manner, making a butchery of its English. “Speak no more, teller of lies.” Loki’s features hardened as he pursed his lips thin, tilting his head back in defiance. It was a motion that made Tony remember just who this person was: a fucking Norse god.

           

Head still pounding, Tony met his captor’s gaze with as much ferocity as he could muster. “Yeah, I’m not sorry for nuking you. Where am I?” His gaze turned to look around the creatures. They appeared to be in a rocky cavern, orange and green lights of a non-Earthly make glowing in the crevices, dimly illuminating his surroundings.

           

“I ask, you provide, Man of Iron, Destroyer of Worlds.” The creature gnashed before him.

           

“Wow, a title already. I must be more popular than I give myself credit, and I’m not one to hold back crediting myself.” The point of a spear was placed on his neck, the metal – or was it stone? – sharp on his flesh. Tony knew when to shut up, and he knew he should have done so much earlier. He was a prisoner, and his life was not in his own hands. He would have to not call the shots in this matter, no matter how it pained him.

           

“You will be silent.” Tony gulped, staring down at the gnarled weapon. The chitauri continued. “You will build us machine like your suit. Can be carried by any. Powered with same device as suit.” Well, this sounded disturbingly familiar.

           

“And if I refuse? Which I’m not at this moment,” he added quickly, remembering the last time he had refused. Half drowning in a bucket of water was not the way he had planned to spend his day. “Strictly hypothetical. You’ll kill me, right?” He was not expecting these things to be any more merciful than his previous captors in Afghanistan.

           

The creature grinned, slimy black teeth showing behind thin lips. “We will kill him.” The scepter was removed from Tony’s neck and pointed at Loki, who met its gaze with his own dagger-like stare. “Torture until you complete.”

           

Tony could have laughed if his life were not hanging in the balance. “Wait, Loki? You obviously don’t know who either of us is. He tried to take over my planet, with your help.”

           

“And failed,” the creature growled.

           

“Yes. So, why should I care about the psychotic god?”

           

The chitauri licked its black lips, the grin returning. “You will.”

           

“I assure you, I won’t.” Tony looked to the god and saw his face grow stony, not looking at anything in particular. Care about that crazy man? They had to be joking.

           

“You’ll see.” With that, the bag was shoved over Tony’s head again, making him lurch bodily in terror. Here he was, thinking he had recovered from his post traumatic stress disorder, only to have it all come back in one fell swoop. All of his nightmares of months gone by were coming true and again he felt the cold grip of terror on him.

           

“You’re going to hear from my lawyer!” He called out through clenching fear. Yet another blow to the back of his head turned his world to darkness once again.

           

Tony woke with a moan, sprawled out on a surprisingly flat and unsurprisingly cold surface. The throbbing of his head had returned with a vengeance. He massaged the back of his head gingerly, glad that he didn’t feel any major swelling.

           

“Greetings, Man of Iron.” A cool and collected voice broke through his silent suffering. He looked up to see the god perched on the edge of a singularly grimy and bare raised sleeping pad, peering down his nose at the mortal. He sat so tall and regally that even his casual godly garb looked just as grand as his armor. He was no less intimidating without his armor; no less a god.

           

“Hello back, oh insane one.” Tony, for the second time that day, pressed himself up from the floor and into a sitting position. His whole body ached, though he made sure to show no weakness before his enemy. He did massage his temple with a hand, the headache almost overwhelming. “Didn’t think I’d be rooming with you. I could have sworn I’d signed up for a single.”

           

“It was no decision of mine, _ósælligr oskilgetinn,_ ” the god spat. For some reason, Tony felt he had just been insulted in Old Norse.

           

Looking past that, he sighed. “I know how I got here, more or less, but what about you? Can’t you just teleport your way out? You seem to be able to get around easily enough on Earth.” Hell, he’d gotten out of Bruce’s magic glass box.

           

Loki sneered, turning his anger to the surrounding walls that looked rather like concrete, though Tony knew them to be carved out of stone, just like the hard floor he had come to know so well. “These walls prevent me from doing so.”

           

“You are supposed to be in Asgard with Thor.”

           

“Indeed, I was there. Then quite suddenly, I was carted from one prison cell to another.” He sounded more annoyed than angry.

           

“Just jail time for trying to take over my planet and destroying half of New York City?” Damn, he had expected more of Thor. Then again, Loki was his brother, adopted or no.

           

The god’s eyes darkened, staring into himself rather than at Tony. “No imprisonment in Asgard is quite so forgiving. Believe me, if you can, that I have had my fair share of punishments.”

           

The animosity towards the god was no less in Tony’s heart. For all their trouble, and the death of their comrade Agent Coulson, Tony felt he would never be satisfied with his punishment. “Oh, I know about Asgardian punishments. After you and your friends - who, by the way, are not the nicest minions – tried to take over my planet, I caught up on your history. Mythology. Whatnot.” He leaned forward, gaze trying to penetrate that dull stare. “You bring about the apocalypse, right?”

           

“Ragnarok, indeed.”

           

A dead silence rang within that rather extensive, cold, cluttered cell. Unable to cope with the silence, Tony spoke up.

           

“Okay, introductions. The last two times we met, we never officially introduced ourselves.”

           

Finally, those almost glowing green eyes turned on him, as if seeing Tony for the first time. They were cold with anger. “You blasted me into the town square, _bacraut_.”

           

Yet another insult he could not understand. Tony shrugged. “You threw me out of my window.” They stared each other down for an agonizing moment, each waiting to see who would make the first move, whether it would be to attack or talk.

           

Loki was the one to break the challenge. He sighed. “I am Loki Odinson of Asgard, Laufeyson of Jotunheim, God of Lies and Mischief, Author of Woes, the Sly God, the One who Slanders and Betrays the Gods, the Liesmith, Silvertongue, Master of Sorcery and Shape-shifting. There are… many more titles.”

           

“Tony Stark, genius, playboy, philanthropist.” Short, sweet and- wait, shape shifting? He had never seen the god do that. “You can change your shape? Like the Hulk, but without the whole bloodthirsty thing?” At the mention of the Hulk, the god winced ever so slightly.

           

Loki’s voice was sharp. “It is an esteemed craft in Asgard, though it tends to just bring me trouble.”

           

For better or worse, this piece of information piqued Tony’s curiosity. He had always been one to venture into the unknown and possibly dangerous. “Pray showeth and tell.”

           

The god’s eyes flashed for a moment, though his expression was still as stony as ever. “On one condition.”

           

“Name it,” Tony was quick to agree.

           

“Tell me why I could not use the scepter on you, like I did to your bowman.”

           

“Done. Now, I want to see you outdo the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers.”

           

Loki stood, the long coat he wore falling regally behind him. With outstretched arms and closed eyes, he began to mumble words Tony could not quite pick out, but they were definitely in no language he had ever encountered. In a flash of blinding light, the god disappeared and a beautiful falcon hovered on thin, beating wings.

           

Tony’s awe was cut short by the banging open of the cell door. He jolted to his feet automatically, raising his hands to his head as he turned towards the sound. A chitauri guard rushed by him, quite ignoring him and thrust one of those mean looking scepters deep into the feathered chest of the flapping bird. The point of the weapon cracked with electricity, and suddenly the god was in his original form, hovering mid-air. The scream he gave off as the lightning cracked into his chest pierced though Tony, jolting yet another wave of fear through him. Loki fell to the floor in a boneless heap just beside the bare, rough bed, his shriek replaced with a dull silence.

           

The chitauri retreated just as fast as it had come, spitting out, “No magic, Odinson,” just before the door slammed shut once more on the far side of the room.

           

When the god did not move for too long a moment, a pang of what felt like the tiniest bit of worry made Tony reach out for the god, though he dared not move from where he stood, arms slowly lowering at his side. “Hey Falcon Punch, you still alive?”

           

The unmoving heap let out a weak moan. It shifted slightly, followed by a muffled and strained, “I’ve had worse.”

           

“Really?”

           

Using the edge of the bed, Loki pulled himself upright, breathing heavy with the effort. All sense of godliness was gone and he simply looked broken. “My brother is the God of Thunder. I may have angered him a time or two. You know how he is.”

           

“Makes sense,” Tony replied, watching as the god pressed a palm to his chest, grimacing as he did so. “So, that bird thing. Pretty cool.”

           

“Falcon,” Loki growled, “Freyja’s Falcon. It’s gotten me out of some tough spots. And into some.” That last had been muttered bitterly.

           

“Explain,” Tony prodded encouragingly. Loki gripped the mattress and struggled to his feet. Tony moved to aid him, but he stopped his forward movement when he was struck by a glare that said ‘no mortal should help a god.’ On shaky arms, Loki gingerly lowered himself into his previous sitting position, albeit less regally than before.

           

Loki sighed, smoothing back his long raven black hair. “I once was looking upon a court in that form. Just for fun. Needless to say, given my luck, I was captured and trapped in a box for three months.” Tony reeled internally. That sounded far too familiar. The god seemed to notice that change in his expression, so he continued. “Indeed, Stark. I am no stranger to being held captive. It comes with the title The Slanderer and Betrayer of Gods. Safer to keep me locked up,” he added bitterly.

           

Mostly surprised by Loki’s forthcoming with the story and secondary by the punishment for such a seemingly small crime, Tony looked at the god with a new eye. “And here I thought I was the one with the most experience in being practically entombed.”

           

The god’s eyes grew distant once more. “No mortal could live through what I’ve suffered.”

           

Tony shrugged. “Yes, well. You are a god. Three months is hardly a blip for you.” It had seemed like an eternity to him.

           

Loki lowered his head. His voice was as small as he looked. “It is no less lonely.” He sat straighter, and spoke stronger. “At least for my longer sentence, my wife was with me. She kept the venom from dripping on my face, for as long as she was able.”

           

“Your wife?” That seemed more shocking than the venom on the face part.

           

“Estranged,” he explained shortly.

           

Well, there he had it. “Ah. I have plenty of those. Estrangements, I mean.”

           

The god met his prying gaze. “As a genius, playboy, philanthropist, I am sure you do.”

           

Tony forced a grin. “I appreciate that you remembered all that. I would return the favor, but I really don’t think I could remember all of your titles. The one who betrays gods and shape-shifts while writing woe. You ever think of making an acronym?”

           

“Slanders and Betrays,” Loki corrected, sounding worn of the subject.

           

“Quite the reputation, Odinson of godland, Laufeyson of yo-yo-heim… etcetera.”

           

“Just Loki. Please, just call me Loki.” He sounded almost as exhausted as he looked.

           

“Loki,” Tony tested the name.

           

He nodded. “Stark. You have a reputation as well.”

           

“The Man of Iron, as your beloved brother calls it. It has gotten me out of some scrapes, but mostly just in to them. Just like your shape-shifting has, I guess.”

           

“Yes,” the god replied softly, the silence trailing on for a long moment. As the conversation appeared to have ended, Tony stepped across the cold floor and began a brief reconnaissance of the room. It did not take long, as the clutter, lit by the same green and orange light as the cavern was, appeared to be just that, junk, sitting atop and around simple tables made of stone and metal. The clutter made the room look like a place where the chitauri dumped their old crap. He kept pacing the room, for lack of anything better to do. Sleep would not come easily, he knew. He began thinking on the problem presented to him.

           

It was Loki’s question that brought him out of his silent brooding. “The Chitauri asked you to do what, exactly?”

           

Tony instantly leapt into his current thought process. “Delineate the quantum mechanics of my arc reactor’s energy so I can use its raw energy in a foreign projectile.” He glanced at Loki’s blank expression and decided to clarify. “They want me to make guns. Not something I’m unused to.

           

Loki’s brow furrowed with deep thought. “They captured us both so that you could make instruments of war?”

           

“Seems they didn’t destroy enough of New York City when they came to Earth. Now they want to do it again, but with more sparks.”

           

Ignoring Tony, Loki continued his thought. “And I am to be your leverage.”

           

He rolled his eyes. “You are my jail keeper?”

           

“No,” Loki replied slowly, brow deep with thought, hands clasped and pressed to his lips. “They dislike me, especially The Other. I took his army and lead it to destruction. I think this is revenge. They just want you to do as they bid in exchange for not killing me. They win both ways. If you don’t make your weapon, they get to kill me and if you do, they get the weapon.”

           

Tony walked to the door and back again to the far wall. “Why should I care about you? You tried to take over my planet, blew up my city, and-”

           

“Threw you out the window, yes.” His words hung heavy in the air, as if he were admitting a grave crime.

           

“Even after I offered you a drink.” The light comment did nothing to lighten the darkness that seemed to seep from the god.

           

“’You’ll see’ they said.” Back and forth, around the benches, past the various piles of junk, Tony walked, the god growing more and more annoyed with each step. He finally raised his gaze, green eyes dark with annoyance. “Would you stop pacing?”

           

“I don’t do well in boxes.” The comment was met only with the continued stare of the god, so Tony continued. “I was trapped in one once, though there were a lot more guns. I came out of it with a car battery attached to my heart. No, I don’t like boxes.”

           

The green stare continued. “Your heart needed a source of power?”

           

Tony finally stood still, his fingers brushing the edge of the arc reactor. He could almost hear his own distant screams ring in his ears; feel the scalpels digging out the shrapnel. He blinked, returning to the current cage he was in. “I don’t tell this to many people. Security reasons and all. I guess I do owe you an explanation in exchange for your turning into that falcon.” He tapped the reactor. “This arc reactor is what keeps me alive. It powers an electromagnet which is stopping shrapnel from entering my heart. It is also the reason you could not control me with your fancy glowing scepter. A heart of metal cannot be controlled.”

           

The god nodded. “Neither can a heart of mischief.” Their gazes met, then. They stared deeply into one another, both searching for something that neither of them showed outright. Tony broke the moment first, turning away to continue his restless pacing.

           

Loki sighed and lay back on the mattress. “Well,” he said tiredly, “you continue your worthless pacing. I am going to rest.”

           

Tony stopped, staring at the god. “What, you hogging the bed?”

           

Loki gave a flippant gesture. “By all means, sleep on the floor if you wish not to share.” Share a crappy mattress with an insane god who tried to kill him? He had to be joking.

           

Tony stared him down, but found the act was useless as the god had already closed his eyes to the dim light. “I still don’t trust you.”

           

“Very wise not to, given what I am. I did intend to take your soul as mine as I did with your colleague, and when I could not, I tried to end you.” The god spoke truth.

           

A hesitant moment, then, “But you didn’t.”

           

“Like I said, floor or share. It matters not to me.” With that, Loki refused to speak more to Tony. He continued pacing, making a point to step as loudly as he could across the smooth stone floor. He worked out equations in his head as he paced, trying to figure out the best method to modify the arc power into a useable projectile without giving away how his repulsors functioned. It was a problem that he had to work out – or else. Or else what? They would hurt Loki? He really did not care for the god. Did he?

           

Tony sat on the cold floor, back against one of the stone benches, well away from where the god slept. Staring longingly at the crudely stuffed mattress, he drifted off to sleep just as the orange and green lights dimmed and died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: Translation of Loki's Old Norse insults:
> 
> Ósælligr oskilgetinn – wretched bastard.  
> Bacraut – Asshole.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	2. Unconscious and Imprisoned

Tony woke from a light doze, the best he could manage sitting against a stone block, with the light flickering back to life, followed by the door slamming open. Chitauri swarmed in the room and Tony barely had time to stand before a bag was thrust over his head, sending his heart hammering in his chest, and his wrists caught and brought together behind him in a deathly grip. A bag. Why was it always a blasted fucking bag?

           

He heard Loki give a noise of alarm and protest, but he was quickly put down by what Tony could only assume was another shock from a scepter. The shriek and the spark were the same as the night before. Tony was shoved to his knees. Scuffling clawed feet passed near him, and something was dragged away. Several heavy objects were placed about the room. The bag was finally removed and his hands released after the many footsteps exited the door. Loki was nowhere in sight.

           

“Materials. Solve it, or he will suffer,” his captor explained and ordered before slamming the door behind him. Tony steadied himself and took in the new items in one sweep of an eye, finding himself quite alone. There were several boxes spread about the room, some on the tables, others on the floor. He unclasped the closest one and found it contained tools that he could use to weld metal. The next one contained a computer console. The light brightened slightly and had a whiter glow to it. How courteous, giving him a better reading lamp while he was forced into labor.

           

He spent a good few hours familiarizing himself with the computer system, which was slightly outdated, but what was not when compared to Jarvis? He searched through the remainder of the materials present and to his astonishment and, in equal measure, his horror, he found all the materials necessary to provide the alien race with a deadly arc-reactor powered gun. Judging by the bioengineered look of the creatures, he figured they knew what they were doing.

           

Hunger ate at him until he decided to test and see how well he would be treated. He banged on the door and yelled. “You won’t get anything more if you don’t feed your local genius.”

           

In a very short time, the door opened and a tray of what appeared to be slightly edible food was shoved in quickly. Tony wolfed it down, thankfully not tasting it, before getting back to working with the computer. He spent the remainder of the “day” – hard to tell when there were no windows and possibly no sun to speak of – customizing the systems. The computer was not voice activated, but it responded to his touch well enough.

           

The light dimmed to an unworkable level many hours later, but Tony persisted customizing the computer. Soon, the lack of sleep from the night before quickly caught up on him, so he took to the empty bed and closed his eyes. He was enveloped with the stench of mildew and damp, but above that, there was a faint aroma of evergreen and mint. Cold and green.

           

He was just drifting off when the door banged once again, followed by a sickening broken sound that echoed off the bare, flat walls. The door shut once again, and Tony looked to find a heap of green and black cloth and leather.

           

The god sucked in shallow, sharp breaths, unmoving from the floor. They eventually slowed, growing ragged before finally turning into the smallest of sobs. This transition startled Tony. He hadn’t expected the god to break so easily. He stood reluctantly and stepped across the room and crouched next to him, reaching to touch the quivering shoulder. Hey, if they were both imprisoned, they should help each other, right?

           

“Don’t touch me, _ósnjallr óvinr_ ,” Loki hissed, sharp and angry.

           

Undeterred, Tony persisted. “Hey Mince Meat, I don’t think you have a choice.” The god clenched his fist and Tony saw his fingernails were bloody, and so were the palms of his hand. What kind of shit had he been put through for him to clench his fists so hard to break skin? Let alone making him break down and _sob_.

           

Loki struggled to push himself up on his shaky arms, pulling in painful, wet breaths. “And here I thought the Æsir were good at torture,” he ground out. He tried drawing a leg underneath him so he could stand, but he barely managed to bend it. Tony watched his struggle and thought at this rate, he really _would_ start to care about the god. He was fucking pitiful. Is this what they meant? He reached for the god, but his hand was swatted away.

           

“I do not need your assistance, mortal.” The god’s voice was dark and strained. With no small effort, Loki pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled, but was caught by Tony’s waiting hand.

           

“That’s Stark, to you, and I don’t take orders from gods.” Loki turned his hanging head towards Tony, his bloodshot eyes making the green stand out all the brighter. He grimaced and nodded once, allowing Tony to aid him to the mattress. With a painful sigh, he collapsed back onto it. He didn’t move for a long moment and scarcely drew a breath.

           

Tony just had to make sure- “You aren’t going to die on me, are you? That would be a shitty roommate thing to do.”

           

The god shook his head ever so slightly. His voice was soft and broken when he spoke. “I have been left with so little magic to heal myself.” He coughed and pressed a hand to his side, mumbling his magic words again. Tony half expected a chitauri to bust the door open and taser him again, but none entered. “So little magic makes it impossible for me to heal all of the hurts.”

           

“Left with magic? What, they steal it?” The god only shook his head, a haunted shadow passing over his expression.

           

He smoothly changed the topic. “I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor. You need rest to finish this problem, and I know you did not sleep last night.” Tony was threatening to start pacing again. He was stuck with no way out and every day of inaction would bring more of… this. Tony did not know how long he would be able to put up with this god who appeared so direly in need of… of what? Pity? No, that was not it. It was something deeper, but Tony could not put his finger on it, for he knew that he needed the same something that the god did.

           

“True, I didn’t sleep.” Not that having a night of unrest was unknown to him. Loki made to stand, but Tony quickly pressed him back down. “No, no mister god of the… home wrecker.”

           

“That would be my cousin.”

           

Tony started. “Seriously?”

           

A tight smile crossed Loki’s pale cheeks. “That was a joke, Stark.”

           

He sighed and shook his head. Always full of surprises, this guy. He sat on the edge of the mattress. “No snuggling. I don’t do that.” Loki gave no response, but gingerly slid against the wall to give his unwilling companion room to lie down. The lights shut off, leaving the two in utter darkness. “Apparently it’s nap time for the kiddies.”

           

“Sleep, Stark. Sleep and make those machines of war.”

           

Tony stretched out on the lumpy bedding beside the god. “You’re just looking out for yourself.”

           

“Always,” Loki replied, raw and truthful.

           

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

 

\---

 

 

_A car battery was wired to his chest, his head covered with a rough burlap sack. He knew if he struggled or took a step out of line, he would get a swift bullet to the brain without a hint of sympathy. He was being half drowned in a bucket of water that burned as it entered his lungs. He was kept in darkness, surrounded by scraps from the guns of his own creation. He had once been proud of those mechanisms of fire and death, but that seemed to be a lifetime away. Fear gripped him every moment he was awake, and nightmares plagued his dreams. Nightmares of being half awake while his chest was ripped open and shrapnel removed, piece by bloody, sharp piece._

_A shock jolted through his chest, and the battery was there… then, the roles were replaced. Loki was attached to his chest with wires. He was being pierced by shrapnel. He was dying – they were both dying, and if he could not get out in time, or appease his captors, they would surely perish._

_Tony spiraled into a maddening whirl, fear, hate, terror, loathing, darkness… always the darkness and the suffocating bag over his head. It tightened around his neck like a noose, his heart bursting as the arc reactor flickered and shorted._

_Blackness, fear, fear-_

_A voice._

_A voice pierced through the terror, through the clenching pain._

_It flowed through him like a cool green river. It hummed deep in his chest, whispering of better days to come as it reached his ear. It was soothing and brought him out of the deep darkness and into the natural blackness of sleep. It felt so cool, green – no – evergreen and mint._

 

\---

Tony slowly came to wakefulness, working his way up and out of the soothing clutches of sleep. He was still surrounded by darkness, though it was not the rancid blackness of his nightmare. The voice continued, murmuring deeply beside his ear. It sounded familiar, but his groggy mind could not place it. An arm was draped over his chest, a hand not as warm as it should be pressed to his arc reactor.

           

“Your hand is cold,” Tony murmured at the god.

           

The chant paused, replaced by that smooth voice. “Frost giant.” The chant continued.

           

“What are you doing to my arc reactor?”

           

“I am doing nothing to your device. You were hurting, so I am helping.” Continued murmuring washed over him.

           

“Magic? Won’t you feel the wrath of the ultimate taser?” But wait, they hadn’t come in when he had healed himself before…

           

“This is small magic, Stark. I’m allowed that in order to keep myself alive. I’m using it on you.” The cool magic continued to flow through his chest.

           

“Why?”

           

“You were having a nightmare,” Loki explained simply. “I do not always use my sorcery with ill intent.”

           

Tony took a deep breath, feeling like it was the first intake of air he had taken in years. “That little bit of voo doo worked better than any therapist I ever hired.” Loki continued muttering in that strange tongue, pressing ever so slightly on his chest. Tony could smell the aroma of Loki, evergreen and mint. It was so close, so… calming. He never would have thought the God of Lies and Mischief would smell so… not evil. It was just as calming as the coldness of his hand against his chest through his double layers of tee-shirt. Was this really the same insane creature that held him up by his jaw and flung him out of a window?

           

After a long moment of utter calm, Tony could not help but start conversation. “You’re a frost giant? You are pretty tall but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that you are a giant.”

           

Loki sighed, pulling his arm back. Tony was surprised to find himself sad to feel it go. “I was taken by the Allfather when I was a babe. The spoils of war.” His voice was bitter. “I have always been small for a giant, and the spell Odin put on me disguised me as an Asgardian.”

           

Holy crap, what if he looked worse than the chitauri in his real form? To quell Tony’s sudden apprehension, he worded his question with as much humor as he could muster. “So, what do you really look like? You have one eye? Or just big, hairy feet?” Oh wait, that was Cyclops and Bigfoot.

           

“Blue skin, red eyes,” Loki answered simply, voice soft.

           

“That’s not too bad, I guess. Could be worse. Though, your magic felt… green.”

           

“This Asgardian form has become me. My magic stays the same, whether in this form or the other.” Tony was impressed with how forthcoming Loki was about himself. He still held a deep mistrust in the god, but as he learned more about him, the more of himself he saw, reflected in those words. It scared him, to think he could have continued his war profiteering and could have ended up like the insane god. Though, Loki did not seem very insane, lying there beside him, speaking softly of himself. A part of Tony warned him that the god was just trying to get him to like him so he would build the gun and not get him killed. He brushed that thought aside, simply wishing to know more. Damn that curiosity.

           

“Do you ever just go blue for a day?”

           

Loki sighed and shifted slightly beside him. “So many questions, Stark. No, I care not for my birth form. Besides, it takes a special device for it to show itself. The coldness stays, though. That little part was hard for the Allfather to explain away before I figured out my heritage.”

           

Many questions still burned in Tony, and more were arising with each response from his companion. “You haven’t always known?”

           

The god chuckled darkly. “I found out by accident. In a way, it drove me to insanity.”

           

It was hard for Tony to hear that mirthless laugh, that painful confession of his own downfall. “You haven’t always been that villainous and genocidal?”

           

That’s when he knew he had asked one too many questions. The god sighed and turned away. His voice was tired and not as gentle as it had been before. “Go to sleep, Stark. You are rid of nightmares for this night.”

 

\---

           

The next day passed in the same way as the days following. The prisoners were woken by the dim lights suddenly bursting to life, followed closely by the cell door banging open. Disoriented from sleep, Tony would get the sack pulled over his head, always stifling and suffocating, and shoved to the floor. After the first morning, Loki stopped protesting, and thus was not punished by the taser of doom as he was taken away.

           

Tony would have the bag removed, and would find a plate of the day’s food waiting for him on the workbench. On that second day, feeling much more rested after that soothing sleep brought upon by the god who kept on surprising him, he dove into computing the equations he had been mulling over. It was difficult, as the first equations he had come up with had been so long ago, and he had relied on Jarvis to calculate them for future suit modifications.

           

It felt far too soon when the lights dimmed. He had barely entered all of the equations into the computer, let alone computed anything, when the door opened and Loki was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. It seemed a popular place to be.

           

“Hey Tiny Giant, you still too proud to ask a mortal for a hand?” His quip received no response. He ventured closer to the god, reaching out to shake his shoulder. He half expected to be swatted away as before, but even his persistent shaking drew no response. Tony rolled him onto his back and observed the god’s slack face, just the slightest pinch to his brow. “Loki?” He tried again, but was not rewarded for his efforts.

           

It took no small effort to drag Loki across the floor, around the strewn equipment, and hoist him up onto the bed. Tony took his place beside the god, waiting for the light to fade. When it did, he found himself drifting in and out of sleep. It was during one of his drifting sleep cycles that Loki stirred.

           

“Thank you, Stark,” came a whisper in his ear. Tony was vaguely aware that their sides were just barely touching. Was it strange that he drew comfort from the slightly colder body next to his? It was stranger still that when he had his various lady guests, he always drew away from them, rather than toward them after he had pleasured them senseless. Not that he had just pleasured Loki senseless.

           

“You looked terribly uncomfortable. You know how I am, always helping the underdog. Terrible habit. I should break that.”

           

Loki’s voice sounded even closer to his ear, if that was possible. “You did not have to do that for me.”

           

Tony shrugged, just brushing the god’s chin with the motion. “You did that thing with my nightmare. You are here because of me. Yes, I did.”

           

“I am here because of _me_.” He still whispered, though his tone was firm. “They are just using me to get to you.”

           

Tony voiced the question he had been wondering ever since he first came to, tied to that chair. “But why should I care?”

           

The god sighed, cool breath washing over Tony’s neck. It made him shiver with its wintery chill. “Time will tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki’s Old Norse insult translation: ósnjallr óvinr – foolish enemy.


	3. Of Spoons and Stallions

Many days passed in that same fashion. Loki would get taken, Tony would work as much as he could, and then Loki would be returned. The work was taking much longer than the genius anticipated. Once he calculated the energy flow, he had to draw up the design. It was a whole other matter entirely to construct the delicate parts with the old tools provided and the scraps lying around. Only certain metals would prove sturdy enough to handle the power of a reactor, so sifting through the junk became an ordeal in itself. Much of the junk lacked structural integrity and would need to be melted down and formed once again. Since he had no access to a smelter, Tony had to make do with the best scraps he could find.

           

There was also the small factor of making a new arc reactor. Tony knew that the Chitauri would not have an adequate amount of palladium. No other metal would accept arc energy, besides vibranium, and he sure as fuck was not about to make more of that. He kept that little bit of information to himself. Perhaps, if he put the wrong core in, it would somehow malfunction and make the gun useless. Hell, it was worth a try, if it came to that. Tony was crossing his fingers that it would not come to that. The Avengers certainly had to be looking for him. The thing was, they could only look on Earth. There was no way for them to get to… wherever they were. Tony would have to bust his way out, just as he did in Afghanistan. Though, this time, he knew he was being closely watched. The Chitauri had skill with engineering. The hovercrafts made that much clear. They would know if he was building something other than what they ordered. So, he continued constructing the gun.

           

His Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was not getting better. Not that Tony figured it would. Every noise, every scuffle of a scaled foot outside the door triggered panic in his chest, clenched at him until he waited for the noise to disappear. It may have been his imagination, but he swore he could hear the unearthly cry of those flying monstrous whales that appeared though the portal in New York.

           

Loki returned in varying states of wellness. Sometimes, he was able to stand on his own, and other times he remained unconscious for hours. They had few precious moments to converse each night before exhaustion took them. It was often the case that Loki was unable to talk, as all he could do was lie on the mattress with his eyes clenched shut. When he was in that state, all the god appeared to be able to do was suck in shallow, pained breaths, hissing them out slowly while wincing in pain. It was in these moments that Tony really began questioning his rancor towards the pained god.

           

After the first two days of animosity, the two relinquished their anger in favor of making their shared cell a place of sanctuary in the hell hole. They kept one another sane in that place, speaking of everything and nothing. It was just the fact that they had another person to speak to that kept them from falling to despair. As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. It was indeed coming true, day by day.

           

In their time together, Tony got to know the god quite well through their short conversations. He even offered information about himself to Loki. He found himself telling this insane god stories that he had not even told Pepper. Since neither of them had anyone else to commune with or lean on, they latched onto one another for support. Though, there were certainly tense moments in those first few days. Mistrust, insults, and maddening silence had plagued them for many hours, but it was soon replaced with a need for a companion in the darkness. They supported one another with their talking of the shared nightmare and life hardships. Tony would explain what he was trying to work out in creating the gun and Loki would help him talk through the process.

           

Tony was quite surprised at the Norse god’s ability and knowledge on the subject of mechanics. When he asked, Loki replied with, “I would not have come as far as I did had I only relied on intuition. I do consider myself a scholar, among other things.”

           

It was not such a leap for Tony to come to a conclusion. “You studied the Avengers, didn’t you?” He still mistrusted the god and had not at all forgiven him for his atrocities during the battle over Earth, but damn, this conquering god was a marvel. Tony desired to stretch his knowledge of this Norse god, to get under that cold exterior and to see the real personality disguised under all of those masks. He needed an excuse, any excuse, for aiding the god who was supposed to be his enemy. In his deep mind, it may have been something like pity that drove him, or perhaps it was the similarity between them. Tony dared not dwell on that subject for long. It terrified him too much to think of himself as similar to Loki. So, he remained in the present moment, taking each twist and turn in stride.

           

“One does not go into battle without knowing the enemy,” Loki replied, matter-of-factly.

           

Oh, well. Of course. Tony knew that. “So, you familiarized yourself with how my suit works?” He would be thoroughly impressed if-

           

“More or less. I knew not that you also had protections inside your suit, hence my error in trying to convert you.”

           

“I’d been wondering how you were so easily keeping up with my explanations of the reactor’s power.” This was met with only a sly grin from the god.

           

Tony could not be sure if he could call Loki a friend, but he was certainly feeling more and more like one as each day passed. Forced quarters with one’s own enemy, though one not still bent on killing them, did seem a strange predicament. It almost seemed too close to a Stockholm Syndrome situation to Tony. But it was not just that. The god spoke to Tony of his childhood, of his adventures with Thor that were never told to those on Midgard. Loki would smile warmly at the memories, though he would often fall silent and bitter if he spoke of his adoptive father or of how Thor bested him.

           

During one of these restless pauses about a week into their imprisonment, Tony spoke up, allowing himself to open up to the god. “You know, my own father never paid much attention to me.”

           

“Indeed?” Loki seemed about as curious about Tony as the man was about the god. Fancy that.

           

“It was either Stark Industries or the grand tales of Captain America. My father was no hero to me.” It was as true then as it had been back then, though the bitterness grew every time he thought upon the subject. Was it that way with Loki as well?

           

“Your mother?”

           

“Died with my father in a plane crash. She was alright. I was just an only child, genius among the toddlers at daycare. I always stuck out like a sore thumb.”

           

Loki grinned. “Is that why you color your suit gold and red, _oflati_?”

           

Tony returned the expression. “Classy paint job, right? Oddly enough, not many people have complimented me on it.”

           

“When I wear my armor, Thor tends to call me ‘cow’.”

           

Tony chuckled at that, remembering the long golden horns. “He has that right.”

           

It was astonishing, the transformations Loki went through, even moment by moment. It was the times when the god seemed real that Tony looked forward to as he sweated through his tedious work during the day. There were those rare moments where he took off his masks of superiority and vengefulness when Tony could see beyond the insanity and into the man, damaged by centuries of lies and mistrust, of always being thought less of. What really shocked him was that even after all that crap, Loki could actually be pleasant. It was like finding a diamond at the bottom of a vat of acid.

           

So, as Loki revealed more of his softer side, Tony found himself continuing to open up more to him. It must have been the combined factors of imprisonment, confined quarters, lack of sleep and decent food, and a large dose of insecurity from his PTSD that brought him out of his shell. That was what Tony told himself, at least. Isolation in captivity for a prolonged period would make anyone long for companionship. His companion just so happened to be Loki, the God of Lies and Mischief, enemy to the Avengers and the Gods.

           

The word ‘friend’ often arose in Tony’s thoughts as he worked, and the word became more and more real as the days turned into weeks.

           

Quite often, Tony would get sent into nightmares in his sleep. It was his time in Afghanistan which haunted him. They never lasted long, as he would always wake to those soothing words, spoken just beside his ear, the cool magic flowing through him. It was the touch that Loki gave while transferring that calming magic to him that really helped. Sometimes, his hand was pressed to Tony’s reactor, other times it was clenched over his own hand. Once, the long-fingered chilly hand cupped his jaw, the thumb smoothing gently over his unshaved cheek. It was when Tony woke to find the god pressed bodily to his side, arm wrapped over him, that he spoke up.

           

“No, no. I don’t do the small spoon.”

           

Voice heavy with sleep, Loki questioned, “Spoon?”

           

Unable to demonstrate with his hands in the total darkness, Tony tried to explain. “Little spoon fits in the big spoon.”

           

Being the practical one, Loki replied sounding matter of fact, “A stallion may mount another stallion.”

           

“Norse gods, Jesus,” Tony muttered. “ _I_ am the big spoon.”

           

Loki chuckled. “No one mounts a god.”

           

“From what I’ve read, that is not entirely true on your part.” In his reading of the God of Mischief, the tale of how he bore the offspring of the stallion Svadilfari while in the form of a mare had always amused him.

           

He could almost feel the god wince, though he did not pull his enveloping arm away from Tony. “That was _once_ ,” he hissed into the darkness. “Of all my bedmates, that is the one that gets written about. The Æsir would have killed me had I not stopped the builder. What else was I supposed to do?”

           

Tony shrugged. “Well, you apparently throw very nice colts. Doesn’t your father ride your child?”

           

This time, Tony could practically see the eye roll. “The Allfather takes what is best. Sleipnir is by far the greatest of the beasts.” Somehow, Tony knew he was not exaggerating on behalf of his offspring.

           

Tony grinned and he knew just what would send Loki off the edge. He just could not help himself. “How did it feel giving birth to an eight-legged horse?”

           

Loki snarled, “This conversation is over. Just face me and be done with it, _þú argr merr_.”

           

Hesitating slightly, Tony turned to face the god. “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned.

           

He was pulled closer, Loki resting his chin on the top of Tony’s head. “We’ll see, Stark.” Tony was surprised to find himself relaxing into the embrace, his body and mind in desperate need of the comfort and protection it offered.

           

After a long moment, Tony posed a soft question. “Why do you need so much contact to do your magic?”

           

“Sometimes the nightmares require more,” Loki replied, a slight hesitation in his voice.

           

“Your nightmares or mine?” Loki offered no response.

\---

           

They were nearing the end of their third week of imprisonment. In the morning, they were woken as usual, with the bright light flaring in their eyes and the loud clang of the door cracking open on the flat stone wall.

           

Loki stirred, mumbling a meek, “No…” as he woke.

           

With a sense of routine, Tony disentangled himself from the god’s grasp and stood, mentally preparing himself for the bag that would cover his head, though this only occurred about half of the mornings it seemed. This was not one of those, Tony was more than delighted to find. Loki drew himself to his full height beside him and walked dutifully towards yet another day of who the hell knows what kind of torture.

           

For each day that passed, Loki had grown weaker. He tried to hide the fact from Tony, but the symptoms were far too obvious to cover with his sliver tongue. They were doing terrible things to the god, and Tony was never told just _what_. It was always the bags under Loki’s dulling green eyes, the deep lines carved deep in his otherwise beautifully pale skin, and the broken way in which he carried himself that told Tony what the god was going through. Those, and the fact that most nights, if he were not woken by a nightmare first, Tony would wake to find Loki clinging to him as if his life depended on it, balling his fists in Tony’s shirt, shuddering as he tried to sleep on. He no longer stood as tall and grandly as he had before, though he also never grinned that wicked grin of insanity. Tony could not help but feel guilty that the god was being tortured in his stead, so he allowed the clinging and the embraces, as rare as they were. It was not cuddling. It was the embrace of two desperate souls. So, Tony continued to build the gun as quickly as possible, driven by the god’s desperate need for freedom.

           

It was on that day, at the end of their third week, that Tony completed building the basic contraption that would convert an arc reactor’s energy into a different frequency that would effectively send a beam of destructive power at a foe. It only required a casing, and a power source. In his time, Tony had drawn up a plan for an arc reactor, but carefully left certain key functions out of the plans. If the Chitauri wanted a gun, they would get a glowing gun, but damn it, Tony would make it blow them the fuck up if they ever tried to use it. He just hoped he would not have to live through that. He already had plenty of shrapnel lodged in his chest; he really did not care to add a few more pieces.

           

It was a few hours after the lights dimmed that the door finally was opened, and a limp Loki was shoved through. He uttered no sound as he came crashing down on the stone floor, and neither did he move once he lay there. This was not new, especially in recent days. Tony, as usual, picked him from the floor and dragged him to the mattress. When he pulled his hands away, he reeled at the vivid crimson coating his palms. Tony’s heart gave a start. Well, this was new.

           

In the dim light, he could see red seeping through the crisscross leather of Loki’s shirt. Tony found where it laced up the side and he tore it open, peeling up the sopping silk undershirt to reveal the carnage that was left of Loki’s chest. Deep lacerations spread across the pale skin, jagged edges weeping. Fucking hell, the Chitauri were tearing him apart. He also noted with slightly less concern how thin the god was. Certainly a god had to eat, so had the Chitauri been providing food to him?

           

Tony turned back to the more pressing matter at hand. He took his sleeve and pressed it to one of the wounds. It was soon soaked through, so he took more desperate measures. He pulled off the tee-shirt he had on over his long sleeved shirt and balled it up against the wounds, pressing hard to staunch the bleeding as best he could.

           

“Don’t you die on me, damn you,” Tony found himself muttering fiercely. “I’ve already had someone give their life for me to rescue myself. I won’t have it happen again.” The frantic murmuring kept babbling from his mouth as he pressed the wounds as well as he could. His shirt was soon soaked through, and Tony briefly wondered how much blood a god could lose and still survive. As hysterical as he was in trying to save the life of the one person who mattered most in his life at that moment, he could not hear his name being called out weakly.

           

“Stark-” He was the only one who mattered, and he was dying before him- “Stark…” His entire being revolved around this god, his smooth voice, his quiet reassurance- “ _Tony_.” He only stopped when the god’s hand weakly clenched his wrist. “Let me,” Loki whispered hoarsely. Tony froze, a horrible wrenching relief arcing through him. The grip was removed from Tony’s wrist and placed over the back of his hands, still pressing at the sopping shirt on Loki’s chest. The muttered spell sounded harsh to his ears, but it felt mitigating on his cramping hands as it flowed through him and to the gaping wounds beneath. Loki’s voice cut off with a sharp hiss and a grimace, and the god’s head rolled back in a faint.

           

Tony stared down at the god, his worry growing tenfold. “Loki, _Loki_.” He pulled his hands away, the god’s own arms falling limply to his sides. Tony pulled his shirt away and found that the lacerations had closed, new scars puckering up in their place. Feeling the relief of a thousand lifetimes, Tony’s legs gave way and he sank to his knees. He pressed his forehead to Loki’s shoulder, not bothered in the slightest by the stiff leather and metal. “Don’t do that to me. You’re all I have right now,” he said quietly, voice hoarse with the aftermath of adrenalin. In all his time as Iron Man, Tony Stark never thought he would be relieved to find his enemy still alive and with wounds closing. But then again, was Loki still his enemy? After lying in one another’s arms frequently enough in the past two weeks, it really did not seem like they were enemies. They were still cautious about one another, and certain subjects were simply not discussed, but overall they were pleasant. Loki was pleasant, when he was not unconscious or grimacing in silent misery.

           

He felt a wetness seeping through to touch his thigh and he found the blood soaked shirt still in his hand, the red mess spreading quickly to his remaining clothes. Tony stood on shaking legs and found the wash bucket he had discovered in the first days. He filled it with water and rinsed the shirt. He brought it back, still damp, to where the unconscious god lay. With all the tenderness of constructing a part for his arc reactor, he wiped away the blood from Loki’s chest. The new scars looked angry and painful, but at least they were not open and freely releasing his life blood all over Tony’s hands. Diligently and gently, he pulled the cloak off of Loki’s shoulders and removed it entirely. He then slipped the silk undershirt over his head, careful to move the god as little as possible. He dumped both of their crimson soaked shirts in the wash basin before he rinsed his hands, scrubbing hard to remove all traces of his companion’s blood.

 

What do you know, Tony thought to himself, a god _can_ bleed.

 

As he returned to Loki’s side, the lights lowered and disappeared, leaving him in utter darkness once more, with an unconscious god who had certainly almost died. Sliding the god gingerly to the side, Tony got into his place beside him. He was unsure of whether to embrace the god in that moment. It had always been Loki who initiated their rare embraces. Tony settled on pressing his side to the god’s own, his head turned and resting just beside Loki’s neck.

 

Sleep overcame him, but he was plagued by roiling shadows. A nightmare took him in its deathly grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more of Loki’s Old Norse translations:  
> oflati – dandy/gaudy person  
> þú argr merr – you unmanly/cowardly mare  
> Next chapter up on Tuesday! Oh, and reviews have been lovely, thank you! It’s always nice to hear my work is appreciated. Keep them coming, dear readers!


	4. A Dream, a Betrayal

_Tony looked around a dark cave, parts of Stark Industries ammunitions strewn about beside overused tools and useless scrap metal. The newly created prototype iron man suit felt heavy on his shoulders, feeling too big on him. He stepped forward noisily after the sound of Yinsin firing the gun he had taken from a dead man… or was that the sound of only one gun? It sounded like far too many gunshots ringing in the cave walls…_

_Yinsin was laying before him, blood trickling from so many bullet holes strewn about his flesh. He was being crushed under sand bags, telling Tony to not waste his life. The spark of life left his eyes, and Tony’s vision turned red._

_They had a plan… why did Yinsin not stick to it, damn it? He couldn’t save him, not with this many bullet holes, not in this place. He could barely save himself._

_The most terrible, crushing guilt fell upon him nonetheless, slowing down the steps of the suit as he stepped toward the flying bullets. Men flew before him, not having time to bleed on the suit before they came crashing down to the dust. It was only then, as they lay there dying and broken that they began to bleed. Tony let them. It was what they deserved, he felt. That was all he felt at that moment: revenge for his imprisonment, for killing his friend, for lodging shrapnel in his chest…_

_A door stood before him. He was trapped… caged. It was the burlap bag again, suffocating him. Water filled his lungs as the man held it under for just slightly too long. He pounded against the metal door, adding his own strength to that of the suit, and it broke before him._

_He flew through the air, the heat from the explosion tearing across his eyes, the only spot on the suit not covered by a thick metal shielding. He flailed his arms in the air, falling, falling… The sand drew closer, and he was in it. He breathed it in, choked, coughed, the broken suit bent around his body. The sand tried to consume him, the suit pressing in close- it was crushing him, and he could not struggle free no matter how he fought to dig himself out of the sand._

\---

           

Tony jostled himself awake with a cry, struggling against the broken suit, the burning sand- wait. The binding metal was soft, the sand cool to the touch. Arms. They were arms, holding him close, clasping his arms to his sides, trying to hold him still as he thrashed. There was a gentle voice whispering into his unkempt hair. It took him a moment to realize that he could understand the words, for once. They carried no magic in them, but they were no less easing.

           

“Calm down, Tony. It will be okay. We can get out of here. We can be free; you just have to wait a little longer. Just give me more time, Tony. I need more time, more energy. So calm yourself.”

           

Tony sucked in a few shaky breaths, allowing his muscles to release their tension. He felt cold with sweat, his brow damp. He turned his head, cheek pressing against Loki’s bare collarbone. He could hear the god’s strained breath between the steadily beating of his heart. He was still gathered into Loki’s arms, his body half draped over the god’s.

           

“Loki?” Tony whispered, barely able to drag the name out past his thick throat.

           

“Yes, Stark?”

           

He cleared his throat, the gruffness fading only slightly after he did so. “You were calling me Tony.”

           

Loki released a long-suffering sigh of relief. He simultaneously released his tight hold of his companion, but still kept his arms about him. “You have been thrashing for a while.”

           

“This isn’t new, you know,” Tony replied bitterly. “The PTSD is back with a vengeance. What happened to the voo doo? That was nice.”

           

“I apologize,” Loki whispered softly. “I had no strength to bring you out of it.”

           

Tony paused a moment, taking a brief trip into how he felt about his predicament. It was a roller coaster of emotion, so he blocked that out and focused solely on the physical embrace, barring who it might be who was holding him. “This is nice, too,” he ended up muttering. Utilizing the now free movement of his arms, as his hold had been released, he wrapped one arm around Loki’s bare torso. Taking this as an invitation, Loki trailed one hand up and began playing his long fingers through Tony’s hair.

           

Tony sighed, melting with content. “If only I could program Jarvis or Dummy to do this, then I could sleep well all the time.” Or Pepper. Tony could not forget about her… and yet she was not on his mind nearly as much as the tortured god. He wondered why-

           

“I am here for now,” Loki muttered into Tony’s hair, the deep voice vibrating in his ear. Ah, yes. That was why. Loki was _here_ , he was a _god_ , and damn it, he was a _friend_.

           

“Yes, you are,” he replied softly. He lay like that for a long moment, caught in the still persisting aroma of evergreen and mint. He felt calmed by the god’s cooler temperature. The silky, recently washed skin pressed to his cheek, rising and falling with Loki’s every breath. Still shaking slightly from the adrenalin of his dream, Tony was feeling a little daring. They were so close, and he craved for just slightly more touch. Perhaps it was just his self-destructive tendencies that drove the action.

           

He trailed a gentle fingertip around the crisscrossing scars. “Do they still hurt?”

           

“Not as much,” Loki replied readily, though his voice was slow from fatigue. Tony’s wandering finger trailed up to a scar just beside where his head rested. Before he even knew he wanted to, Tony was pressing the softest of kisses beside the puckered skin. Loki took in a surprised gulp of air. “Definitely less, now.”

           

The lips were removed from the tender flesh. “Well, I’m not about to kiss them all better.”

           

“I would not expect you to,” Loki replied softly, but Tony could discern a ‘thank you’ in that tone somewhere. Instead of paying attention to the scars, Tony moved to higher ground and pressed a slightly not as soft kiss to the god’s collar bone. “Stark, what are you doing?” The tone did not sound at all uninviting. Rather, it was hopeful.

           

“This is me saying thank you,” Tony replied between pressing small kisses along the god’s flesh just at the base of his neck.

           

“If this is a thank you, I can hardly imagine what other messages might be like.” Was that encouragement? That was not quite what Tony was expecting.

           

Tony released a wicked grin into the darkness of the cell. “I have plenty of messages I could send your way. Let me think of one. Ah, this one is forgiveness.” He pulled himself up and placed a lingering kiss just behind Loki’s ear, the unkempt black hair tickling his cheek and nose. It was a thrill a minute, this exchange. So deprived of attention as he was during the day, he really only craved to be close and accepted by this god who had become everything to him. He pulled back, wide smirk lost in the dark, though it showed loud and clear in his voice. “You know, forgiveness for the whole throwing me out the window thing.”

           

“My turn,” Loki almost purred. “This one is also forgiveness.” He pulled Tony close with the hand still resting at the base of his skull. “For everything I have done.” He breathed gently into his ear, nipping at his earlobe. “And, you’re welcome.” The breath that flowed over Tony’s neck had a touch of winter and snow to it. It sent a chill down Tony’s spine, which was renewed when those godly soft lips pressed to warm the spot he had just chilled. It was a primal desire, this exchange. It was that desperate need of a friendly touch from another. It was reassurance and a promise that not all had been lost, and that there still was good in this tiny circle of Hell.

           

Loki dropped his head back heavily, releasing the sigh of a man gone a year without rest. “I tire, Stark. My injuries need sleep to heal. You need rest to finish your project, and I need to gather energy for mine.”

           

Rather sad the moment passed, Tony pushed himself off of Loki so he was lying on the mattress instead of across the god’s chest. “You still haven’t told me what this grand scheme of yours is.”

           

The god chuckled lowly, turning gingerly on his side and pulling Tony close. “Does a trickster give away his secrets before the show?”

           

Tony sighed, relaxing into the embrace that he had come to know and expect on certain occasions. “Try not to get too hurt tomorrow.” He knew it was an impossible request.

           

“No matter. I have you, my friend, to return to.”

           

In pieces, Tony thought, before he allowed himself to drift back to a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

\---

           

Three days passed rather uneventfully, Tony working tirelessly on constructing the gun casing, and Loki returning in an unconscious heap on the floor. He never bore open wounds after that one night, so Tony would simply lay him on the bed and continue his work until there was no more light to see by. The nightmares still persisted, but they were less intense now, and he would find himself working out of them with the aid of a gentle voice, falling into a quiet sleep without waking.

           

On that third night after Loki returned so injured and dying, for the first time in many days, he returned conscious. Tony snapped his attention away from his work as he was shoved into the cell, shoulders stooped and stumbling. Dropping his tools, Tony rushed to aid him and caught the god just as he was about to lose his footing. He held the god in a gentle embrace that Loki did not return. He did, however, lean into it for support. He could hear the god’s quiet struggling breaths.

           

“You never tell me what they do to you,” Tony said to the god gently.

           

“I would not speak of it,” Loki replied, voice sounding harder that it ought to be. “I will say that I was told before the war that I would long for something as pleasant as pain if I were to fail. Well, I failed. The Chitauri… The Other is making good on its promise. You have seen some of what they do, you need not know more than that. What is more important is the progress on your war weapon. Have you completed the casing?”

           

Tony was awkwardly rubbing the god’s back through the thick cloak and shirt of leather, trying to massage some life back into him. He had never been good at this part, and it did not seem to be doing any good, but he persisted. “That is what I have been working on for the past few days. I just have a few more detailed parts to construct before I piece it all together. I also have to construct the reactor.”

           

“Good, good,” Loki nodded against Tony’s shoulder. He sighed and pulled away from the one-sided embrace. His green eyes were distant, unfocused. “I must sit.” Once perched at the edge of the bed, Loki clasped his hands together, pressing his knuckles to his lips, eyes forward in concentration. Tony paced the floor, amazed he had not worn gouges in the floor with how often he resorted to this.

           

“I should have the materials necessary to construct the last details of the arc weapon. Should I build the arc reactor first, or complete assembling the gun?” After a long moment with no reply forthcoming, Tony turned to look at the silent god. Those distant green eyes were dark with concentration, seeing worlds unknown. “Loki?”

           

“Leave me in peace. I am preparing.” The god’s tone was stony, distant.

           

That left Tony just slightly peeved. “Preparing for your master plan that you refuse to tell me? Great, how are we supposed to be a team if you won’t tell me?” Bad things happened in places like these when the plan was not stuck to. Yinsin was testimonial to that.

           

Dark green eyes rounded on him, seeming to pin Tony in place. The voice was just as harsh as the gaze. “I may be able to withstand the worst torture and not break. You, mortal, are much less strong.”

           

Anger flared up in Tony that he had not quite expected. The original Loki was back, scheming and cold, though still not the psychotic killer he knew at first. “Oh, so we’re back to ‘mortal’ now? What was that about forgiveness?” There it was. The subject was finally breached. That one exchange of pleasantries in the middle of the night that the pair had not discussed since.

           

Loki shifted his gaze away, putting up one of his masks. “I am sorry if I lead your thoughts astray. I have tried to give you room to work. It is of most import.”

           

“No, no,” Tony interjected, “astray is nice.” A brief flicker of something crossed Loki’s expression. “That cold breath thing? Very cool. I might go so far as to say sexy.” His tongue went ahead of his mind filter before Tony was able to stop it.

           

“Indeed.” Loki’s voice was distant. He smoothed his hands back over his hair. “If you must know what I am doing, I am communicating. With whom, I will not say.”

           

“Communicating? Doesn’t that require magic? Aren’t they going to burst in here with their fancy taser spears?”

           

“So little you know, Stark.” The mask of superiority had returned, and Tony felt a rift between him and his friend growing as he was shut out. “When the time comes, you will know.” Just as his words faded into silence, the lights dimmed and darkened, leaving the pair in darkness, though it still sparked with the intensity of their conversation.

           

“A little early tonight, don’t you think?” Tony’s nerves worked their way to his throat.

           

“Perhaps,” Loki replied shortly.

           

Tony ventured forward, expecting his shin to find the metal mattress stand. Instead, he found something fleshy and clothed. Cool hands caught him around the waist, keeping him upright.

           

Tony could not help a smirk from blooming across his cheeks. “Why, hello Loki.”

           

“Stark,” he replied bluntly, removing his hold on the man. “Go sleep. I will be awake a while yet.” Slightly disappointed at the coldness of his friend, Tony lay on the mattress behind where Loki sat. Why was he pushing him away? Was Tony being too bold? Had he read the signs wrong and pushed the god too far?

           

“Alright,” Tony conceded, allowing just a small portion of his disappointment lurk into his voice. “Goodnight.” There was no reply.

           

The morning found Loki to be in the exact same position as the night before. When the guards arrived, he simply stood and willingly walked towards them. He looked to be an animal being lead to slaughter; only he would survive the hammer blow to the brain and the butchering that followed.

           

With no small amount of concern for Loki, Tony continued his grueling work, welding and pounding metal plates into precise configurations. Based on the progress he was making, he would be complete with the gun in just a few days. After that, he would begin constructing a faulty arc reactor. It would be tricky to do, but he was Tony Stark. If anyone could make something go disastrously wrong with technology, he could. He was in the thick of welding, sparks flowing from the metal, when the door of the cell opened and his fellow prisoner entered. When he looked up, after the sparks and smoke cleared and he took off the poorly constructed welding mask, Loki was back in his place, perched on the edge of the bed.

           

“You still communicating?” He called across the room. When he was met with no response, not even a twitch, he set his materials down and went to his side. “Loki, stay with me.” It almost felt like a plead: don’t leave me. “Say something, damn you,” he whispered harshly, reaching to touch Loki’s shoulder, wanting to shake the god out of his stony trance.

           

His wrist was caught before it ever made contact, the grip harsh and painful. The voice that followed was angry and dark. “Do you wish to escape or not?”

           

Slightly taken aback by the sudden onslaught of a wrathful god, Tony reeled back. “Well, yes.”

           

“Then do not disturb me,” he growled, mouth sneering. Tony had not seen this side of the god in, well, many weeks.

           

This became the routine for three more days. Tony would try to make light conversation with a scowling, silent god. A deep, aching loneliness began to bloom deep within him. He had lost his companion. The one man keeping him sane in this insane situation, the one keeping him going, was now gone. In his place was a deathly fixture, a cold and calculating nemesis once more. Tony dared not disturb him, fearing what would come of it. It was the first time in quite a while that he may have begun to have doubts about his friendship with the wrathful, unpredictable god. After that evening with their pleasant exchange, Loki had become the distant god of weeks past once more. It truly felt like they had reverted back to the first days of mistrust and loathing. Tony could not help but feel responsible, though he knew not why.

           

The third day went as the previous ones had, though only about halfway through, the cell door banged open. Tony had been working on a latch to close the contraption after he had finished constructing it. All it required was the final assembly and a power source.

           

Tony looked up from his work, cutting the flame and removing the welding mask. As custom, he stepped away from the work bench. A chitauri stood in the doorway with no Norse god in hand. A pang of fear ran though him. Had they finally broken down and killed him? No, they would not-

           

“Man of Iron,” the creature gnashed, “you are summoned.”

           

“Well, that’s new. What’s up, son of Godzilla?” There was no response. It simply rushed him in the blink of an eye and shoved that god damned bag over his head, capturing his wrists behind his back, and shoving him into motion. After being lead through twists and turns, he was sat down on a hard surface, his feet quickly bound. When the bag was finally removed, he saw he was in the same twisted stony room as he had been when he first was captured. He looked to his side and found a disturbing lack of a god beside him. No, they would not have killed him, not when he was so close to finishing what they had requested. Please, do not let him be dead, Tony thought, fear raging within him.

           

Not allowing his apprehension sneak into his voice, he asked in his usual cocky tone, “Alright, what’s the scoop?”

           

“Man of Iron, we have been monitoring your progress,” the leader of the pack said as he stepped into Tony’s line of vision. Damn, he was a lot bigger than the rest of them. He had not noticed that the first time around. He also wore a less covering mask, and his bright crimson teeth flashed as he spoke.

           

“Obviously.”

           

“You appear close to the finish of our project, though no power source you have made.” Well, that certainly cleared up a bit of the fog. They had been quite closely monitoring his progress, then.

           

“Yes, that was next on my agenda,” Tony quipped.

           

“We have been informed that you will attempt to make an explosive instead of an energy source. You wish to sabotage the project.”It was difficult to keep a straight face and to not show the fear growing in his eyes. Well, shit. This was not going well.

           

“Informed? By wh-” Tony knew. As soon as the glint of gold appeared in the crowd of Chitauri, and the billow of a long green cape spilled into his vision, he knew. How could he be so stupid, so blind? He had trusted that fucking god, told him things he had never told anyone else. Hell, he had even felt _safe_ with him, with his vile, false promises, felt comfort in those embraces that were so welcome at the time. His heart felt like a stone, dropping into his gut. All of the anger, for Agent Coulson, for the destruction of his city, for his cruel lies, all swarmed up inside him. “Loki,” he growled. The God of Betrayal, the Liesmith, stepped full into his vision, looking kingly in his full armor, helmet glinting in the green and orange light. It shadowed his face, making the hard lines of his brow stand out all the more.

           

The Chitauri leader spoke once more. “In exchange for freedom, Loki Odinson has offered to provide that power.”

           

“He- what?” Tony spat, glaring daggers at his betraying friend- no, he would call him friend no more.

           

“Continue,” the chitauri growled. Loki stepped forward, each movement more menacing than the last. Tony recoiled as he stopped just before where he sat.

           

“And here I was thinking of calling you a friend,” Tony snapped.

           

The God who Slanders and Betrays the Gods peered down at him. “I told you it was wise to not trust me.” His voice was smooth, though it held a bite.

           

Tony scoffed. “So, this was your grand scheme? Take my reactor to save your own skin?”

           

“I am a God, and you a mortal, _ósterkligr óvitr undirmaðr_ ,” Loki Odinson, Laufeyson answered.

           

“You’re no god,” Tony growled. “You’re just a backstabbing shit.” Loki easily tore into Tony’s still bloodstained shirt, revealing the glowing arc reactor beneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Loki’d!  
> Old Norse translation, as usual: ósterkligr óvitr undirmaðr- weak ignorant underling.


	5. Melting Ice, Flowing Water

A jolt of fear ran through Tony, stronger than the anger, a cold hand hovering menacingly over his arc reactor, shirt torn open to reveal its glowing power. “You take that out and I will die.”

           

The god was suddenly close, voice close to his ear. “You remember reading of my children?” His tone was completely different. It was Loki, his companion, once more. Tony did not know whether to feel relief or an even stronger wave of mistrust. “You will know them when you see them, and you will run.” Was that a warning or a threat?

           

“ _I_ will be in cardiac arrest,” Tony reminded him harshly.

           

“No you won’t,” was whispered in his ear as those cold fingers gripped the edges of the reactor, twisting it out and tugging the chords from Tony’s chest. The usual shock of an ache set in, and Tony’s breath was drawn in, sharp and fast. He was going to die. This was it. Tony Stark was going to die in a circle of triumphant lizard people at the hands of one who he really should have been looking at as an enemy the entire time.

           

He flinched back as Loki quickly pressed a palm to the gaping metal hole that remained, muttering a few quick words. Tony’s heart gave a great lurch, and he almost cried out, but it soon passed, and the god stood and withdrew.

           

Tony clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm. If he was not careful, he really could make his heart burst. His ears rang, a dull ache forming in his chest, though not the deathly clench he had come to expect. He vaguely heard Loki presenting his reactor to their captors. “The metal heart of Tony Stark,” he said grandly. “It will power the weapon he created. Now, release me.”

           

Tony looked up just in time to see the leader chitauri’s sickening grin as Loki held his glowing reactor before him. It was so wrong… “Be free, Loki Odinson.”

           

The god looked to straighten even more, energy seeming to crackle around him. “Finally.”

           

The world turned to chaos.

           

A brilliant white light blinded Tony for an instant, and when his vision cleared, a cyclone appeared to have moved into the middle of the cave. Wind whipped at his face, dust and mist swallowing the scene. Angry shrieks filled his ears, almost drowned by the screaming wind. He half expected to feel his skin torn away from his bones from the ripping energy in that unnatural wind. Instead,Tony’s bound hands and feet were suddenly freed, and he stood on shaky legs, unable to see or know where to go in the madness. He was supposed to run in this calamity? Loki, that fucker, had to be joking.

           

In the chaos, though he did not see anything, he could discern the savage hiss of a snake, the beautiful voice of a woman, the screech of a horse, and a blood-curdling howl of a wolf. Between those petrifying cries were the screams of the Chitauri as they met a most devastating end. He saw none of the carnage, the dust and mist obscuring all vision.

           

A voice appeared at his ear, familiar but strained. “I told you to run.”

           

Tony turned, but he could not see Loki in the thick fog. He threw a punch in the direction of the voice, but his fist met nothing but air. He stumbled forward and turned, searching for even the hint of a shadow cast by his enemy. “You want to fight? Then show yourself,” he growled, tense but growing weaker by the second.

           

“I will not fight you, Stark. Without the reactor, you are too weak.” Those were definitely not the words or the tone that Tony had come to expect from his enemies. It was… caring? What kind of screwed up asshole became a friend, stole your life support, and then refused to finish the job of killing you? Oh, right. This was Loki. He was not just a super villain, he was the fucking God of Lies and Mischief. Tony should have seen this coming. He should have seen it, should have kept his distance, and should have let him die. So, why had he not?

           

“The reactor-”

           

“Is gone,” Loki cut him off shortly. “I used its power to make this and to bring aid.”

           

“My chest- hurts,” Tony croaked as his heart gave a jolt. He could feel his knees threatening to give way. Strong arms caught his shoulders, keeping him upright. The shadow of something appeared before him, and Tony could just make out two long, curved horns. Tony tried to twist away, to throw a kick or a punch – _anything_ – but he was too weak to do so. Those strong hands just held him in place.

           

“The spell I placed on you will keep you alive, momentarily.” The god’s voice was quick, distracted.

           

“Alive?” Tony spat, “I’m _dying_ , you idiot. I can’t _run_.”

           

“Sleipnir!” Loki called out into the surrounding violent turmoil and almost deafening noise. A large, dark shadow appeared. “Carry Stark. You know where.”

           

“Loki-” Tony ground out, his chest constricting painfully.

           

“Go, Stark!” He was shoved towards the massive shadow, and Tony found himself face first in the side of an eight-legged horse, muscles bunched and ready. He somehow managed to climb into the saddle, perhaps with help from some unknown source. As soon as he got a secure grip, he suddenly felt like he was hurtling through space. Probably was, in fact. He dared not open his eyes. He could barely manage to hold on to the wildly flowing mane as the powerful and ridiculously numerous legs of the horse bound beneath him. Before he could think of where he might be or where he might be going, the mad rushing ceased and he tumbled from the back of the grand stallion Sleipnir. He landed in a heap on the floor, shocked to find it soft with a lush carpet. He opened his eyes and took a quick sweep of the room. It was lavish, and that was a humble way of describing it. Even in the dark, he could see the lush green upholstery, accented with gleaming silver. The room felt cold, unlived in, but well loved and tended to before being abandoned.

           

Tony’s heart gave a jolt and he writhed on the floor. Here he was in Asgard, he figured that was where he was at least, and his heart was failing. A whicker came from just beside his ear, but when he turned, Sleipnir was gone.

           

“God damn you, Loki,” Tony growled into the deserted room. He crawled on shaking limbs to the closest couch. “Fucking… damn you,” he ground out as he struggled to lift himself from the floor. He was able to pull most of himself up and onto the luxurious surface. If he had not currently felt like he was nearing the end of his life and livid towards the god he had thought of as a friend before he betrayed him, who had then gone and saved his life –it appeared - he would have gawked at the room he found himself in. He was lying on a couch beside a cozy-looking though long cold hearth, covered with richly carved woodwork. The walls of the room were lined with overfilled bookshelves, the windows covered by heavy green drapes. It appeared to be night.

           

As it was, all Tony could do was lay halfway on a couch and hope his heart would not burst. It was not quite an hour before he could hear heavy footsteps approach the magnificent oaken doors just to his left and across the room. The great doors swung inward, giving Tony a lurch of fear. He half expected to see a chitauri dash into his vision, with a waiting bag to cover and suffocate him. Instead, Tony heard a very familiar booming voice.

           

“Brother, all of Asgard and the Valkyrie have been searching for you this month and more past.” Damn, he sounded angry. His voice only rose in volume as it continued. “You have been confined to your quarters, so how did you escape?” Suddenly, warm lamp light filled the room, extinguishing the shadows that lurked about. There Thor was, in all his glory, piercing blue eyes peering around the room, searching for his criminal brother. Tony had never been so glad to see that big lug.

           

“Man of Hammer, so good to see you after all this time,” Tony quipped from where he lay on the couch. “How is the old man?”

           

Thor rounded on him, his eyes widening with shock. “Friend Stark? You are covered in blood!” The God of Thunder was crouching beside him in an instant.

           

Tony waved his worries away. “It’s old and not mine. Don’t worry.”

           

“How did you come by Asgard?”

           

“Interesting story, Thor.” Tony tried to quell his overwhelming emotions by being his usual snarky self. “I suppose it has to do with your dearest adopted brother.”

           

“Loki,” Thor growled in anger.

           

“Now, before you start getting all anger lightning god on me, you should know that he was a prisoner just as much as me in all this.” He grimaced as his heart jolted once again. Thor pulled him into a sitting position, a rather gentle gesture for such a huge man. He retreated and sat on the edge of the couch opposite to Tony.

           

“Prisoner? By whom?” Thor leaned forward intently. Oh boy. Rehash time.

           

“Those lizard things your dearest brother brought to Earth. The Chitauri. They wanted some kind of revenge on him, and they used torturing him to get me to make them arc reactor-powered guns.”

           

Thor’s golden brow came together in a concerned crease. “And you made them?” What, was the mighty Thor not concerned that his own brother was tortured?

           

“Well, yeah. What would you have done?” Tony knew that was a mistake before it even came out of his mouth. Of course, Thor would have-

           

“I would have struck at them with mighty Mjolnir and-”

           

“Hold on, He-Man. Remember that without my suit, I’m just a genius in a mortal body.”

           

Thor seemed to think this over, and nodded his head in agreement. Well, at least he could agree with a genius, even if he was not one himself. Changing the subject, Thor asked of Tony, “How have you come here?”

           

“I took a ride on the Reading Railroad,” he replied dully. It seemed the most apt description.

           

Thor stared at him intently. “I do not understand your jest.”

           

“Oh, just economics and real estate.” He waved the subject off. “Your brother’s eight-legged offspring gave me a ride. Loki is probably still back there personally delivering the Chitauri to whatever Hell is to you. I don’t blame him,” he added darkly.

           

“You said you were a prisoner. How did you escape?” The mighty Thor appeared baffled at the story, especially when he told him of riding his father’s mount. Apparently that just wasn’t _done_ in Asgard.

           

“See this?” Tony pointed to the hole in his shirt that revealed the gaping maw of his chest. “This is where my arc reactor is supposed to be. You may notice that it is gone. Loki tricked us all, took it from my chest, and pretty much blew up the place using its power.” The bitterness he was trying to keep at bay leeched out in his explanation.

           

“That device keeps you alive. How are you not-”

           

“Loki again. He did something to stop my heart from failing, for a time at least. I’m,” he grimaced as his heart contracted painfully once more, “still skeptical as to the spell’s effectiveness.”

           

“You need to get another metal heart.” Thank you, God of Obvious Statements.

           

“Well, that would improve things,” Tony replied with an annoyed sigh.

           

“The Bifrost is still broken,” Thor said, seeming to be thinking aloud.

           

“Your brother must have a plan.”

           

Thor grimaced, rubbing a huge hand over his bearded cheek. His deep, kingly voice could not hide the distain. “My brother always has a plan. Whether they turn out well is another matter entirely.”

           

“I figure we have about a fifty-fifty chance of this ending well. He told me about some of your adventures. He seems to have helped and hindered in pretty much equal amounts. Well, bar trying to take over the Earth.” Could not forget that small detail.

           

“You spoke with him?” Disbelief, shock, and just a little bit of reverence rang in that simple question that was not at all simple. Nothing was simple when it came to Loki. “He is your enemy.”

           

Tony shrugged, sagging back onto the back of the sofa. “We shared a cell for a month, maybe more, who knows? I wasn’t keeping a calendar. Hey, I’m such a nice guy; how could I stop myself from making friends?” Well, friends before the trickster god had taken his reactor.

           

Thor’s gaze became dark and distant. “He has never been good with friends.”

           

A grin passed Tony’s cheeks, though it was close to mirthless. “No, no he’s not very good.”

           

“Not good with friends?” Tony’s head snapped towards the silky voice, breathless with exertion. Loki stood, still in full armor, leaning on the high-backed upholstered chair that completed the semi-circle of furniture surrounding the empty fireplace. “You wound me.”

           

“Brother!” Thor lurched to his feet, but did not go to his adoptive brother. “I have heard of your bravery, though I would not have used such trickery.”

           

“No, you wouldn’t.” He removed the horned helmet and limped to a side table, placing it gently on the surface. He sat upon the high-backed chair heavily, armor looking stiff and uncomfortable. Tony supposed it really did not matter to the god, seeing as he looked as though he would care to not move for the next twelve hours. Actually, Tony thought, let him be miserable for the time being. At least then his own discomfort would be reciprocated. Loki sighed, pressing a hand to his temples. “So, what punishment do I get for leaving this time?” It appeared he was used to this. “Though I did not leave by choice,” he muttered crossly. Thor sat back on his previous seat, obviously reigning in the overwhelming emotion that threatened to spill over. What sort of calamity would result, Tony did not care to find out. He was sure it would have ended in Loki getting a punch in the face, or getting crushed by a fierce hug. Tony hoped for the first. Had he not been unable to stand, and had the god not looked so spent, Tony would have gone and done so at the first opportunity. As it was, he had to be satisfied with sitting back like a ragdoll and glaring knives at his former fellow cellmate.

           

Instead of doing either of those, the rational Thor came to the surface and spoke. “The most matter of import at present is getting Stark here a new metal heart.”

           

Tony spoke up, “I don’t mean to be a stick in the mud, but I don’t think I have much time.”

           

Loki spoke to Tony, though he did not meet his withering gaze. “When my strength returns, I will reinforce the hold on the spell I placed on you.”

           

“Our healers will-” Thor began, but was sharply cut short by a suddenly fierce Loki.

           

“Kill him, no doubt. They do not know the nature of his condition, the technology, and neither do they understand treating mortals. Stark will remain under my care, presently.” Loki caught and held Thor in a challenging stare.

           

“Loki,” Thor began in warning, but the God of Mischief was not done.

           

“Punish me more as you see fit for my insolence, just not yet. Stark is a priority.” Somehow, just a shaving of mistrust was chipped away for Tony at that. Well, it appeared that the god did still care about him, enough to keep him alive, at least.

           

Thor addressed that very fact with his next question. “What makes you so passionate, Loki? He was your enemy.”

           

Loki sighed, “Is it so hard to think of me making a friend, brother?”

           

“Oh good, we _are_ friends,” Tony interjected, just a slight bite to his voice. “I was starting to doubt it.”

           

For the first time in days, the god turned his eyes to rest upon Tony and really _looked_ at him. Tony felt just a little vulnerable under that intense gaze. “I had come to think so, and I still do call you friend.” The electric moment was broken as the god turned away to look at his brother. “Thor, I would ask your leave. We are weary and must wash, eat and rest.”

           

Thor stood. “Very well, Loki.” He turned to Tony. “Stark, if you require guest quarters, we have many halls-”

           

“Stark will be staying here,” Loki interrupted, his word final. “I must closely monitor him through the night.”

           

“Very well, Loki,” Thor repeated, making his way to the door. “I will return on the morrow.”

           

“Grand,” Loki murmured, just as the great door shut. He seemed to transform immediately now that his imposing brother was out of the room. He sunk deep into the chair, an air of intense exhaustion falling about him.

           

“You have a rough time after I left?” Tony blinked at the god, the question not lacking in contempt. Fucking hell, he was still angry at him, no matter what he did to save his life.

           

“I am spent,” Loki explained, weary beyond words. “I thought I had gathered enough energy for transporting my children, but I obviously miscalculated. Even using your reactor barely gave me all the strength. Also, my brother tends to exhaust me to no end.” That last bit did not seem like a joke.

           

“The snake, the woman and the wolf?” Tony pried for more information, making his more than slightly pissed attitude shine through.

           

“Jormungandr, Hel, and Fenrir,” Loki supplied readily. “You know of Sleipnir as well.”

           

“They were who you were communicating with? Do all Norse gods have a telepathic connection to their children?” It was only a slightly joking question. Mostly it was skeptical.

           

“I have what you might call an unusual relationship with my children. I am a sorcerer, and they are the children of a giantess. Sleipnir, well, he is another issue entirely. On a very basic level, I am able to communicate with them, yes. Had I needed to resort to magic, the Chitauri would have found out and I would have been killed right then. It did take much concentration, however.”

           

Tony leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. More beautiful wood carving. “Hence the no talking.” He rubbed a hand down his unshaven face, feeling much like a vagabond. A change in subject was in order. “I would really like a shower about now and a good shave. Those cold water sponge baths did little for my complexion.”

           

“We have extensive bathing pools in Asgard. I am also in need of a wash and a change of clothes. I will lead you there.” He stood, grimacing as he did so. Tony tried to follow suit, but found he was far too weak to hold up his own weight. Damn, it felt like the palladium poisoning all over again. He tried once more, tipped forward, and was caught in the waiting arms of Loki.

           

Tony tried to push himself away, disgusted to be so close to his betraying friend. “Why, so you can drown me and finish the job? Get away from me, Loki,” he growled. He tried to step away, but his legs would not abide. As he fell, he was caught and held by those strong arms. It was not the most comfortable thing to fall into, all stiff leather and polished metal.

           

“If I wanted to kill you, Stark, I could have done so many times over by now.” Those words rang with truth, even coming from those lips made for lies. Tony stopped struggling and allowed the god to support him. “It would have been easy to leave you behind, but instead, I brought you here. Certainly you can trust me long enough to bring you to wash.” Tony was silently grateful for the assistance, no matter how much he resented the god in that moment. He did not want to be seen crawling around the floors of Asgard like some shipwrecked sailor on a desert island. The question of _why_ the god saved him still hung heavy in the air.

           

So, they took off down the grand, though dark hallways of the castle of Asgard, house of the Gods, clinging to one another and limping slowly forward, looking very much like the walking dead. They were quite the sight: an exhausted god still in his armor after battle and a mortal man in a torn and bloody shirt on the verge of cardiac arrest.

           

“Just wait until you see Asgard in the daylight,” Loki spoke, trying to warm the cool atmosphere between them. “It is a sight to behold.”

           

Just taking each step was consuming all of Tony’s concentration, so he dared not look up and about just yet. “Yeah, can’t see much now.”

           

They turned a few corners, walked down some hallways, and finally pushed through yet another massive set of wood doors. The bright moon peered down from the open ceiling, glinting off of a pool, steam curling from its surface.

           

“We wash in these basins,” Loki explained simply, motioning to a series of water spouts that poured into shallow pools all along the walls surrounding the room. “And we rest in the large pool.”

           

“So it’s a pool party? Where’s the watermelon and beach ball? Not to mention the super hot babes in bikinis.”

           

Loki chuckled tiredly, leading them deeper into the chamber. “If you have the energy, go ahead.”

           

“Nah, if I had a Mai Tai, I’m pretty sure my heart would fail, voo doo or no.” They stopped beside one of the wash basins and Loki slowly released his aiding hold on Tony.

           

“Very well. You may bathe here. I will meet you in the pool.” With that, Loki withdrew and stepped to a basin well down the long length of the wall. Tony took stock of the materials present before him. What he found was quite simple. A bar of soap, a cloth, and the running water. Well, these gods may be grand, but had they thought of conditioner? Of course not. He also found a razor and a mirror. Ah, just what the doctor of unkempt fancy beards ordered. He glanced down the way to see Loki laboriously pulling off his armor, piece by piece. Tony turned away, setting to work on his own clothing, glad to be well rid of the grimy garments. After a nice wash and scrub, and a much needed shave, Tony came to resemble his old self once more. Though he could scrub away the sweat and grime, he could not wash the foul memories away no matter how hard he tried. Glad to be rid of the stench of long weeks past, he wrapped the cloth about his waist and slipped into the pool. He sat upon the submerged ledge, neck and shoulders out of the water, and he leaned back, soaking in the warmth. The water filled the gaping hole in his chest, soothing the ache for the moment.

           

Tony forced himself to not turn when he heard footsteps approach. He still did not look when he heard Loki gingerly lowering himself into the water, just more than an arm’s length away. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a small while, listening to the gentle trickle of water flowing from the wash basins surrounding the massive room.

           

Tony still did not look at the god until Loki spoke, sounding weary enough to be holding up the world. “I apologize for deceiving you.” His soft voice echoed off the marble walls before getting lost to the star-lit sky. The only expression Tony could see was remorse.

           

“Yeah, well,” Tony replied, not sounding nearly as harsh as before, though still holding just that bit of anger deep within. “Liesmith, God of Mischief. It comes with the territory.”

           

“Yes, I suppose it does.” Loki sighed, leaning his head back on the edge of the pool. “We are not all-powerful, like you think we are. Each of the Asgardians has a limit to their power. Thor, well, I suppose his limiting factor would be his dim wit and anger. My powers require some amount of sacrifice and trickery. It is not often that I hurt someone who I care for.” This last bit was spoken even softer than the first.

           

“You care for me?” Tony’s tone was artificially light-hearted. “Oh, that’s nice.”

           

“I’m serious, Stark.” He turned to look Tony in the eye, sincerity clear on his face. “I am truly sorry I had to spend your arc reactor. I otherwise would not have been able to muster the strength to bring my children to our aid. I was distant from you in the final days because it was difficult to convince them to come to my rescue.”

           

“Oh, so it wasn’t my thanking you that drove you away?” There it was, that one unspoken evening of pleasant exchange arising once more.

           

Loki chuckled at that, shoulders shaking slightly in his gentle mirth. Tony focused on the dark bruises that blotched them; looking as though they had been repeatedly dislocated or otherwise stretched to unknowable lengths, to great pain. His eyes searched the god’s body above the water line. Although he was toned, he looked crumpled, shoulders curling inward. Damn, the Chitauri had certainly done their best to break him. He did seem to ease as the steam curled about him, though the relief looked painful and slow.

           

An odd glint shone in his green eyes as he glanced over at Tony, corners of his lips turned up in a mischievous smirk. “Would I have reciprocated had I not accepted the sentiment?”

           

Drawing himself away from giving the god a once-over, Tony shrugged. “Who knows? It could have been Asgardian courtesy, for all I know.”

           

The twinkle had not faded, though the smirk softened. “I have always been intrigued by you, Stark, ever since we first met. You appeared out of the sky in shining glamour, and I saw some of myself in that display. The same insecurity.”

           

“Insecure? Who is insecure?” He was Tony Stark. If there was ever anyone to be secure it was… no. It was definitely not him.

           

“You always make a point to outdo all those around you. I tried that once,” Loki drifted off into his quiet tribulation, staring out at the far wall, hard to discern past the steam.

           

“What did you do?”

           

“I tried to rid Asgard of the Frost Giant menace. My father did not see that as fit for a prince of Asgard, adopted or no.” Bitterness ran through his words, as they often did when he spoke of Odin.

           

“What did he do?” Tony encouraged the god to go on.

           

“Nothing,” Loki replied quietly. “I let go and banished myself from the realm. I fell into darkness, through fathoms of space and across to other realms on the broken tendrils of the Bifrost. That is where I happened upon the Chitauri. I felt as though I could aid them, and in turn they would help me rule Midgard. It was a grand plan, but that too sent me into darkness. Funny, now that I come to know you, it appears we have each had our share of dark times. I have just taken the wrong path every time, whereas you have chosen the right ones. It is how I do things. It is all I know.”

           

This was a whole different level that Loki had breached upon. It was his very nature they were discussing, not just his past. “Can’t you change yourself; stop using lies to get by?”

           

Loki scoffed, though a smile made its way to his cheeks. He turned to look at Tony once more. “Could you use cotton and water to construct your suit? Could you live the life of a monk? That is not how I work.”

           

“You know, that makes sense, in a peculiar way.” He stretched his arms out of the water, a fierce yawn overtaking him. “Not that this isn’t a lovely conversation, but I am looking forward to getting this gaping hole in my chest fixed. That and possibly some food.”

           

Loki sighed. “Yes, that is most important. We shall grab some nourishment in the dining hall before we return to my rooms. You will find a drying cloth as well as sleeping clothes hanging beside your wash basin. The garments will suffice until our clothing has been cleaned or replaced.”

 

“I hope they burn those shirts,” Tony murmured.

 

“Indeed,” Loki agreed. He stood, Tony pointedly adverting his gaze as the god stepped from the pool. Quickly following suit, amazed that his legs would support him, Tony toweled off and pulled on the silk pants and matching lace-up shirt. In the moonlight it looked black, but it very well could have been blue or dark green. Tony really did not give a crap. It felt great to have something on that did not stink with old sweat and dried blood.

 

Loki appeared at his side, clad in a matching set of pajamas. Damn, even in silk sleepwear, he still looked magnificent. Just as the water had soothed Tony’s aching chest, it appeared to have worked wonders on Loki. He stood straighter and no longer limped as he walked. “Let us go dine on real Asgardian cuisine.” With that, they made their way through the dark hallways once again. After stopping in a wide, high-ceilinged room with tables strewn with food, where they dined on rich bread, fruit, and meat off the bone, they were back in the hallway, heading back to Loki’s chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory bathing scene: check. Woah, no Old Norse in this one!


	6. Healing and Grinding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Here, have some smut!

Feeling much more refreshed and rejuvenated, Tony glanced out, beyond the grand pillars that stood at the edge of the hallway, and into the city far below. Even in the moonlight, it shone gold and silver. High towers reached for a sky that was alight with stars. Far too soon, they were back in Loki’s hearth room. The god placed a guiding hand on Tony’s shoulder and moved him forward, beyond another grand door that led deeper into the living quarters. They came upon a bed with lavishly carved tall posts, draped with the same heavy green curtains as the windows. Forgoing the lamp, Loki continued steering Tony towards the bed and, at just the right moment, spun him so he sat upon the soft doublet cover, which sank deliciously beneath his weight.

           

“Lay back,” the god said smoothly before he retreated. Tony obeyed, sliding himself back, so he was comfortably lying on the comfortable mattress that certainly deserved the name. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching Loki drawing the drapes of the window open, letting the clean and bright silver moonlight shine into the room. He sat back, staring at the draping cloth that hung above the bed. Then, the mattress moved under him, and when he tried to sit up, that guiding hand pressed his shoulder down onto the mattress once again. The god crawled onto the bed, legs on either side of Tony’s waist, sitting gently on his outstretched thighs.

           

Loki leaned forward, a hesitant smile on his lips as he gazed down at Tony beneath him. “I now have just enough energy to prolong and enforce the previous spell on your heart,” he said gently.

           

Tony raised an eyebrow at the sly god. “Is this how all the healers in Asgard treat their patients? If that’s the case, then I understand why you battle so much.”

           

Loki grimaced. “Not in the least. They are far less pleasant. This is my own way of dealing with these things. I have always felt that a gentle hand works better than a heavy one.”

           

Tony let a sly grin crack his previously stony expression. “Special treatment? Why ever should I deserve this?”

           

The god leaned close, his hands bracing against Tony’s shoulders, their usual chill seeping through the thin material of his shirt. He turned, whispering in his ear. “Because you gave me a second chance.” The god was so close… and the man so desperately needed a companion after such an arduous ordeal. Tony reached a hand up, cupping the back of Loki’s neck as he pressed possessive kisses to the god’s jaw. He remembered the deep anger he had felt towards the god so recently and replaced the kisses with small bites of retribution and was rewarded with small hisses of pain, though the god did not pull away. His other hand wandered up his chest, slipping over the smooth silk and pressing into the flesh beneath, reminded of how he had pressed down on that same skin as Loki lay dying. Tony shoved the image from his mind, focusing on only what was before him now: a magnificent and mysterious prince of Asgard, one who he still was not sure if he could trust or not.

           

Loki released a purring moan. “Stark,” he whispered the name, and sucked in a breath as Tony’s nimble fingers unlaced his shirt and began exploring the glorious skin beneath with harsh movements, already thin scars the only mar on the beautiful chest. “Stark, wait- the spell.” He clasped Tony’s wandering hands in his own, struggling to press them down to the mattress on either side of his head, the man growling up at him, both in anger and pure animalistic desire. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes for a long, tense moment, hunger plain in both green and brown. “Spell first. You will be more-” he gulped down what would have been a moan, “stable.” He was met with a glare. He leaned in close. “Please let me do this for you, Stark. If you cannot forgive me, then at least know that I do not wish you further harmed.” Forgiveness was not entirely forthcoming from Tony’s end, but damn it, he was willing to try. He released his hold on Tony’s wrists, trusting that the man would not try to scratch his skin away at the first opportunity, and pressed his hands to the silk-covered hole where the arc reactor ought to be. He began a rhythmic muttering of a spell, brow creased with concentration.

           

Tony’s chest gave a great jolt and he could not help but cry out at the sudden pain. He tried to move, but he was pressed down firmly by the god hovering over him. After a few long moments of a dull ache filling his chest, the pressure was suddenly released and Loki slumped forward, breathing heavily.

           

“It is done. That should last you until I have enough energy to take you back to Midgard.” Tony made no response. He simply pushed himself up onto an elbow, the other wrapping around Loki’s shoulders, grabbing a handful of hair and _pulling_. He began placing kisses and nipping at the tender skin at the base of the god’s neck, moving slowly upwards towards his jaw. Tony lay back, dragging Loki down with him. “Stark,” the god practically moaned, leaning into the needy, rough touch.

           

“This is me saying thank you.” And fuck you, he wanted to add, but ultimately decided against it. A hand trailed its way beneath the god’s silk shirt once more, his fingers dancing and groping along Loki’s side, the skin smooth under his touch. His palm came to rest on the crook of his neck, thumb massaging the sharp collar bone.

           

Breathing heavily, though now not from his magical exertion, Loki spoke lowly, “Then I must in turn say ‘you’re welcome.’” He leaned down, once more pressing Tony’s shoulders into the soft covers. He licked his lips hungrily, Tony staring back with brown eyes dark with need. Loki lunged forward, but stopped barely two inches from his face. Their breath mingled for a sweet, slow moment, wintry into summer warm, and Loki pressed his lips to Tony’s.

           

Each leapt eagerly forward. They explored the touch, the motions delicate at first, testing the turbulent waters. Tony pressed forward for more depth, harsh and desperate, biting and sucking, Loki complying readily. Hands wandered aimlessly over skin, lacings a simple nuisance to get rid of.

           

All Tony knew was he wanted this so much. It was a primal desire, to have someone - anyone - that close. He had not known he had wanted it until they went forward in leaps and bounds, each desperate for the touch of someone who wanted them, not for what they did or could accomplish, but for who they were – who they truly were, behind those masks they wore daily. Each needed a release in the worst way possible, from the torture, quite literally, of the long days past. They needed something, anything, good to happen or they would be lost in misery and despair.

           

Loki sunk his chilled fingers into Tony’s hair, pulling him closer. Tony responded by grasping with his arms, trying his best to meld their bodies into one moving mass of passionate flesh and cloth, digging his fingers into that pale skin. He was still angry, damn it, and he would make that _known_. Tony’s embrace was all tooth and nail, hands grabbing the cool skin and tugging harshly at those long, black locks with a ferocity he did not quite know he was capable of.

           

The god broke away suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath of pain. All movement ceased, Tony looking up at the grimacing God of Mischief above him.

           

Tony pulled away just slightly. “Sorry, did you expect me to be _gentle_ after what you did?” It was harsh and accusing, and the wince Loki tried to control was definitely not worth it.

           

The reply was soft, fragile. “Do you wish to punish me, like all the others?”

           

Tony was suddenly washed with guilt when he realized how much he wanted to hurt the god who had risked so much to save him. The anger dissolved as he stared into those green eyes, clouded with lust and something more. Something deeper. A need for _approval_ , for a companion who would not turn against him.

           

“I am not like the others,” Tony said sternly, to himself as much as to the god. “I am angry, yes, but I know when to stop. I don’t want to hurt you more than you already are. If this is too much-”

           

He was silenced with a covering kiss. “It matters not.”

           

Tony arched an eyebrow at the god, those desperate eyes hovering so close to him, searching him for any kind of affirmation. In this moment, Tony knew just how wrong the situation could go, and fuck, he really wanted it to go well. He pressed himself up, a now gentle hand cupping the back of Loki’s neck. The kiss he placed on the god’s lips was almost chaste in its softness. Had it been any other situation, Tony would have teased Loki about the small hitching sob the prince let slip from somewhere deep in his chest. As it was, Tony let it be. He pulled away just slightly, staring into those shining green eyes.

           

“Better?” And there it was. Tony could almost see the wave of relief crash through him. Loki made no reply, simply diving back in and pulling Tony’s shirt up, sudden and desperate. Tony leaned up, aiding the god in the removal of his shirt. Once it hit the floor, the other’s quickly joined it. Their eyes met then, rich brown staring into bright green. Tony smirked, Loki licking his lips. A hand was smoothed down the god’s chest, burning fingers pressing into soft, cool skin, rippling over the finely toned muscles. They slipped delicately over the hem of the silk pants, continuing to smooth over his crotch. Loki’s eyes fluttered closed and he breathed out a moan.

           

Smirk growing, Tony squeezed harder. “The balls of a god.”

           

Loki’s voice was deep and rumbling with lust, all traces of hurt gone from that dark, desirous gaze. “I want you, Stark.”

           

“Oh really? I thought we were just dancing,” Tony bantered. This earned him a growl that came from deep in the god’s chest. He dove down and tried his best to devour that snarky grin from Tony’s mouth. He rolled his hips over Tony’s own, rewarded when the man took in a sharp breath through his nose, his mouth currently occupied. Tony felt Loki grin through the kiss. In return, Tony grabbed the god’s hips in his palms, rocking him forward once again. They both simultaneously broke away from their needy lip lock in a collective moan.

           

“Do that again,” Loki ordered breathily.

           

“I plan to.” With that, Tony adjusted his grip to hold the god’s rather chiseled ass, he was pleasantly surprised to find. Loki positioned himself so their rapidly growing groins were pressed together.

           

Tony cared not that he had never lain with a man before. It was not the god’s sex that attracted him, though it also did nothing to deter him. It was the fact that the god was so alike to him. They had been though a shared awful experience, and they both needed to be distracted from the harsh memories, from both the near and distant past. They both needed a release, and they cared not who with. They happened to have each other. If Pepper had been in Loki’s place, Tony would have gone to her. There was also the fact that Loki seemed safe. That was… not saying a lot, actually. The God of Mischief and the… etcetera list of terrible titles was no small deal, even to be in the company of. Lying with him was another level of danger entirely. Then again, he was Tony Stark, Iron Man, the Merchant of Death, and more recently, the Destroyer of Worlds.

           

The pair seemed to balance each other out. Both gods in their own way.

           

They rolled together, rocking back and forth. Loki had propped himself up upon outstretched arms pressed to the mattress on either side of Tony’s head. Tony was desperately clinging to the god’s ass and hip, coaxing more movement from him. They breathed heavily in the silent night. Loki’s breath was a welcome wash of chill and relief over his sweating chest and cheeks. They had foregone their lip lock in favor of focusing on more pressing matters, like pressing and grinding their aroused selves together through those damned silk pants. Tony unclenched his eyes, gazing up at the god moving steadily above him. He looked glorious, expression both relaxed and pleasantly strained, his eyes shut in ecstasy. It was the look of a man gone so long without an intimate physical embrace that the experience was an overwhelming, shocking pleasure. Tony briefly wondered just how long Loki had gone without being this close to someone. Judging by that glint of moisture just at the corner of his clenched eyes and how he appeared to be choking around a lump in his throat, he figured it had been a _long_ ass time. The man was determined to appease the god in whatever way he felt he could, forgoing the small bit of anger that still lurked deep in his chest in favor of thanking what good the god had done.

           

Tony’s hand deftly dove under the thin fabric, seeking more of that cool skin to grasp. He found the flesh of his ass and squeezed. Loki fell to one elbow, easily finding Tony’s lips and engaging them in a needy kiss, only broken by the need to suck in hot breaths. He freed one hand, and dove it unabashedly into Tony’s pants, grasping his stiff sex without hesitation. Tony let out an involuntary groan as he was squeezed and released in turn with their rocking motions. Using both hands, he was able to pull Loki’s pants down below the glorious ass. Leaving his stiff for the moment, Loki tugged on his companion’s own remaining garment, and with some aid tugged it down to Tony’s knees.

           

Tony knew they were both still broken, still tormented from the horror just recently passed. He knew they were drowning themselves, and they most likely should not be getting as close as they were. They were enemies… right? So why did this feel so good?

           

They needed no words in this moment. Each knew exactly what the other wanted, and it was the same on both sides. Green pooled into brown, exchanging a silent affirmation. In perfect synchrony, they caught both of their needy pricks in their clasped hands. Loki stifled a moan and Tony grunted at the sudden presence of another, albeit chillier, hard-on squeezed next to his. Loki began a steady thrust of his hips, sliding their sexes together in the embrace of their palms.

           

Lost in the moment, it was all Tony could do to move his hips sporadically as the god kept a steady pace. One of them, Tony knew not who, placed a thumb over their weeping heads and rubbed to the motion, easily sending the men into breathless moans of pleasure and desire. Loki had pressed his forehead to the mattress just at the crook of Tony’s neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin, marking the mortal as his own. The god’s aroma of evergreen and mint was as intoxicating as ever. Tony ran a hand through the long black wisps of Loki’s hair, migrating to grip his back, his ass, and back up again. The lusty motions, the mingled hot and cold breath, the sparks of pleasure, they were all too much for Tony to last for any length of time.

           

As he reached his climax, Tony thrust deeply and quickly into the clenched hands, arching his back and letting out a silent cry. Loki may have whispered in his ear, but the words were lost to him as he spilled himself onto their stomachs. He slumped back, utterly spent as Loki finished with a few swift strokes, shuddering over him as he released his own seed to mingle with Tony’s. He collapsed forward onto Tony’s chest, his own skin damp with exertion. He remained unmoving, save the continued heavy and exhausted breathing. Tony ran his fingers through the long hair, scratching at the base of his neck as he too caught his breath, the chill of Loki’s skin a welcome relief to his overheated body. It appeared that Loki grew colder as he exerted himself, rather than getting hotter, as Tony did. It made for a well-managed temperature control.

           

After a short while of remaining in that unmoving position, Tony jostled his companion’s shoulder. “Hey Frosty, let’s move under the covers. You’re starting to make me cold. You know, the sweat and the jizz and the frost giant.” Loki made no response, no sign that he had heard. He stayed lying heavy on Tony’s chest, breathing slowed. “Fallen asleep already. Some god you are,” he said softly, fondly. He crawled out from under the sleeping god, pulled back the heavy covers, and somehow managed to drag Loki under them and into a pleasant sleeping position. Tony refused to acknowledge that this was the usual routine, shoving the foul memories from his mind. He pulled the covers over them both, after wiping up the spunk with a sheet corner and pulling their silk pajamas pants back up into place.

           

Tony curled himself around the lanky god, lifting Loki’s arm, heavy with sleep, to drape over his own waist. Loki’s expression was calmer than he had ever seen it, a pleasant, satisfied smile on his lips as he slept. “God of Mischief. No one else could have played enough tricks to get into my pants without me actively seeking them out, getting me to care for you. Very well played.” He brushed a strand of hair from the god’s forehead. “Perhaps you weren’t planning on reciprocating that caring.”

           

“Tony…” Loki murmured sleepily, curling closer, pressing his forehead to the other.

           

“Goodnight, Loki.”

*

           

Bars of light struck through the open curtain, illuminating the bedchamber and making the woodwork practically glow gold. Tony woke, the bright light piercing through his dreamless sleep. Loki was still in his arms. In the light, he could see the faint lines of worry and pain etched across the god’s skin, though he showed none of those in his present state of relaxed sleep. He finally looked calm, after a month or so of torture and captivity. In fact, it was the most calm he had ever seen him.

           

Tony had slept long and hard, no nightmares plaguing his rest. He knew the dreams would come eventually, but for now he had been too exhausted.

           

A moment passed, and Tony contemplated waking his companion, but there was no need. One instant, Loki seemed dead asleep and the next, his eyes were open and staring deeply into Tony’s.

           

Tony grinned. “Good morning, Snowmageddon.”

           

Loki groaned in tiredness, wiping a hand down his face. “Morning already. I feel as though only an hour has passed, though it appears to be late morning.”

           

“Time flies when you’re, well…”

           

“Bedding someone?”

           

“Fucking a popsicle.” After a very peculiar look, Tony revised his quip. “Or bedding. Something like that.” It was hard to remember that Loki probably would not get his Earth references. All the better, probably.

           

Loki sighed. “My brother will be here shortly.” He gave a sharp look at Tony’s stupid grin. “He must not know of this.” Well, no shit.

           

“Why, are you afraid he’ll think you seduced me?” To prove his point, Tony wandered his hand down Loki’s waist, thumb pressing circles into the soft flesh.

           

“You are both Avengers. I am a sworn enemy of the Avengers; you told me yourself that I am to fear them. Now I fear for us both on this matter.”

           

“Won’t it already be suspicious that I stayed in your room?” When someone stays over, it obviously means sex is in order. Perhaps tradition in Asgard was different. Somehow, Tony doubted it.

           

Loki gave him a slightly guilty look. “I have another sleeping chamber in my rooms. My brother assumed that is where I would put you.”

           

“So that was a choice on your part,” Tony wiggled an eyebrow at the god.

           

He pulled Tony close, hunger brimming in those green eyes. “Would you have had it any other way?”

           

“No complaints here.” To reassure Loki of that, his hand currently resting on his hip shifted down, across the thigh, forward-

           

“Tony,” Loki whispered through clenched teeth, withheld desire written clearly in his expression.

           

“We’re back to Tony now?” It always felt more personal when the god used his first name - more intimate. It was the way it was said that made it different from everyone else calling him Tony. It was like a victory every time, after being called ‘Stark’ for so long.

           

Loki steadied himself. “Thor will be here soon. It is not my desire to be found in a less than ideal position.” Oh, that was not any fun. Where was the risk in that?

           

“Oh, so you would rather be sitting by the fire, having tea and crumpets and having an intellectual conversation when he checks up on us?” If he knew Loki, then-

           

“Precisely.” Bingo. “Now get your hand out of my pants before I have to douse myself with cold water.” Tony rolled his eyes and did so. Loki pulled out of the embrace and sat up, turning his back on him as he swung his legs out and over the bed. Tony saw for the first time in the light the extensive damage the Chitauri had done to the god. Half healed bruises and dark welts stood out against the otherwise stark white skin covering the well-toned back and shoulders.

           

Tony traced a soft finger over a shoulder blade and down the ridges of his spine. “They did a number on you. Either that or I don’t know my own strength.”

           

“It was not you,” he replied softly and quickly. “They will heal.” He stood and retreated from the gentle touch. He scooped up one of the silk shirts that had been tossed to the floor in the frenzy of the night before and pulled it over his head. Tony followed suit, pulling his own shirt over his head, not bothering to lace it up. He found Loki faced away from him, working on tightening the lacing. He slipped his hands around the god’s waist, fingers lacing forcibly with his, disrupting the progress of lacing the garment.

           

“Tony-”

           

“Last night was great. I don’t say this often, but we should do it again.” He leaned forward, pressing his chest to Loki’s back, lips just behind his ear. “Soon.” Loki turned suddenly, fully grabbing Tony’s ass and pressing him firmly to his front.

           

“Very,” he growled. “ _Ek fysa_ _þú._ ” He still did not know what the fuck the god was saying, but damn it sounded sexy that time. Tony was released just as quickly as he was caught and he watched the god disappear beyond the grand door into the library hearth room. Tony followed, a satisfied spring to his swagger. He found Loki already sitting in the high-backed chair, bent over an open book in his hand. Tony arched his brow at the display. He approached one of the many bookshelves lining the wall and picked a book at random. As soon as he flipped it open, the God of Thunder burst through the door with all the authority of a king of Asgard.

           

He rounded on his brother. “Loki, where is Tony?”

           

The requested man turned. “Woah, Lord of Lightning and Big Hammer. I’m right here. Alive,” he added on, just in case. He watched Thor’s gaze move slowly from his expressionless brother to Tony. “Thanks to your brothers… ministrations,” he caught a warning look from Loki that he quite ignored, “I am well enough for now. Which, considering I don’t have an arc reactor at the moment, is quite the heroic feat.”

           

“Friend Tony, I am glad to hear of your improved condition.” Thor stepped further into the room, but made no move to sit.

           

“You seemed skeptical, Brother. Did you really think I was capable of harming my friend?” Tony could see the mask he put on for his brother. It saddened him to see the god so defensive in front of his own sibling.

           

“He was your sworn enemy up until a few short weeks ago.”

           

Tony felt the need to interject. “To be fair, they were very long weeks. As I said last night, we shared a cell, we had a lot of time to talk, and I realized he is not as evil as you seem to make him out to be.”

           

Thor was taken aback. “I do not make him sound evil.”

           

That earned him an arced brow. “Tell that to the Avengers. We only heard the worst parts about Loki. After hearing the story from him, I have changed my mind.”

           

With that, Loki cleared his throat, reminding the two that he was indeed still in the room. “Not that I do not love being talked about like I am not here, but what is the purpose of this visit, Thor?”

           

Turning solemn, the God of Thunder appeared to put his kingly air back on. “Father wishes to speak to you.”

           

“You mean he wishes to speak _at_ me while I try to explain myself. He never hears my words.” No small amount of savage distain laced his tone.

           

“He has summoned you presently,” Thor replied gently, seeming to sympathize with his brother. This had obviously happened before on many occasions, and it was bound to go in the same direction as all the other interactions between the Allfather and his adopted son: a total shit fest.

           

Loki sighed, shutting his book with a snap. “Very well. Stark, make yourself comfortable. This may take a while.”

           

“Father has summoned Tony Stark as well.”

           

Tony brightened, quite glad to not be left behind. Too many terrible events happened in recent times when he had gotten left behind. “See the King? But what will I wear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy giving Loki things to say in Old Norse. As Silvertongue, I feel like he would show off his profound language skills to impress. Ek fysa þú– I desire you.  
> On another note: sexy time. Finally.


	7. Odin’s Eye, Loki’s Lie

Soon, the three of them were stepping grandly down the wide and tall hallways of Asgard, the mid-morning sun almost blinding against the tall golden towers. Loki wore his casual Asgardian garb; either a different set or his originals had been cleaned and repaired already. Tony was grandly, though stiffly, clad in a sweeping robe of the richest crimson he had ever seen. It just reached his knees, accented with polished black leather bracers, boots, and a matching long vest that pulled tightly over it all. And here he thought that the Iron Man suit was gaudy.

           

Upon hearing his concerns as they had dressed, Loki had simply replied, “You look gorgeous.” Though he did not know if that was a joke or not, Tony still felt reassured.

           

The three approached the lavish entrance to the throne room, high pillars strewn with lush fabric draping, the stonework, woodwork and metalwork far more exquisite than any Tony had ever seen.

           

For once, Tony Stark felt small.

           

The doors opened before them, pushed by grandly armored guards. They proceeded forward, and the hallway opened up into the goliath of all throne rooms. Tall pillars lined the distant walls of the oval chamber, flanked with robed and armored persons. Gods, Tony reminded himself. At the very peak, sitting upon the throne, Odin Allfather sat, scepter in hand. It was a court. It was their duty to pass judgment onto wrongdoers. Seeing the way Loki’s expression hardened, Tony figured this was certainly not the first time he had entered this room standing accused. Though the trickster tried to stand tall, Tony almost saw him shrink at the sight of his father. Did the Allfather really have that much of an effect on him? Defiance roiled in those hard, green eyes.

           

They stepped slowly towards the throne, all eyes turned to stare at their approach.

           

Loki’s voice was quiet, stiff, as he whispered to Tony. “Do as I do, but do not speak.”

           

Tony knew this was not the time for witty quips, so he nodded and walked as tall as he could in that imposing company. They approached the steps leading to the throne and stopped, Thor and Loki standing in front, side by side, and Tony just behind them. They kneeled, clapping their fists to their breast as they lowered their gaze from the King. Tony followed suit.

           

“Allfather,” Loki addressed his adoptive father, voice clear but strained.

           

Odin spoke, his voice booming in the vast hall, though he did not raise his voice. It struck Tony deep in his chest. This was the voice of Odin Allfather, King of the Æsir and all of Asgard. He was a god to be revered and feared in equal measure. “Loki Odinson. Explain why you broke your confinement before your sentence was complete.”

           

Tony could practically feel Loki struggling to control his voice. “I was prepared and willing to serve my sentence. It was not by choice that I left.” He looked up at his father then, staring at him challengingly. “I was taken from my chambers by the Chitauri and imprisoned by them.”

           

“Did you not fight?” Odin’s voice rang out accusingly.

           

Loki’s shoulders tightened, reigning in a sharp remark. “My strength does not lie in fighting, Father.”

           

“So it was your choice to not fight and to get captured and taken away from your previous sentence?”

           

Loki finally snapped, patience worn through. Fire burned in his words, so many centuries of father-son turmoil boiling over. “You think I chose to get captured?” He swept to his feet, voice cracking with emotion. Thor tried to stop him by softly calling his name, but it was to no avail. “They tortured me, Father! Every day was worse than any punishment you have ever concocted. My sentence-”

           

“I care not!” Odin’s voice thundered in the chamber. Tony winced at the power behind it. “It should not have taken you so long to return home.”

           

“You do not understand the circumstances,” Loki tried to reason, pulling himself away from the anger Tony knew still dwelled just below the surface. “They dampened my powers and immobilized me if I performed any magic.” The darkness, the loathing returned to his voice. “If I were your trueborn son, perhaps I would have had the strength to-”

           

“Silence, Loki!” The Allfather stood to his full height, imposing and frightening in his power. “You have been absent from your sentence for four weeks, therefore your sentence must be lengthened and we must place more strict confines on you. This is to ensure that you do not fail to complete it again.”

           

“I had no choice!” Loki’s voice cracked. “I was taken-”

           

“My word is final, Loki! You will be confined to your chambers and have an escort-”

           

“Father-”

           

“An _escort_ , Loki, to take you to areas around the palace. You will not be permitted to venture farther than that.”

           

Loki sighed and Tony saw his knuckles whiten as he clenched his fists at his sides. “For how long?” He sounded broken, worn down.

           

Odin stared down the steps at his adopted son, who did not meet his eye. “Another three years on top of the seven already given.”

           

Tony perked up. “Woah, how am I supposed to get back home?” Odin’s eye turned on him for the first time and Tony felt even smaller than before. He knew he had stepped out of line with that one.

           

“Midgardian, I know neither who you are nor how you have come by here. Explain your presence.” Tony, for once, was lost for words. Loki had clammed up, clenched fists shaking ever so slightly, head lowered.

           

Thor came to his rescue, standing and addressing the King. “Father, this is Tony Stark of Midgard.” He pulled Tony to his feet, clapping him companionably on the shoulder. “We have fought side by side as brothers in arms against-” he stole a quick glance at Loki, who continued staring dejectedly at the floor. “-Against the Chitauri.”

           

Tony cleared his throat. “Yeah, what he said. We are friends.”

           

“Stark requires passage back to Midgard as early as circumstances permit.” Loki’s voice was soft, almost pleading in his defeat.

           

Thor’s deep voice was a stark contrast to that of his brother. “But the Bifrost is still broken.”

 

Odin stared down at the three. “You ask me to use my power to transport this lowly mortal back to his home?”

           

Tony spoke up at that, unable to help himself. “Hey, I take offence to that. On Earth, I’m like a god myself. They look to me for wisdom… or entertainment,” he added on softly.

           

Loki turned his gaze to look upon him. “Genius, playboy, philanthropist,” he muttered, too softly for the Allfather to hear. It brought a fleeting grin to Tony’s cheeks.

           

“You are a man of import?” Odin addressed Tony. “What is your skill?”

           

“I’m an inventor, mostly,” Tony readily supplied. “I created the Iron Man suit… which gives me the strength of a hundred men and the power to topple my enemies.” Hey, he was in the High Court of the Gods, he had every right to be dramatic. Loki’s eye twinkled in amusement as he shot him a second side-glance.

           

“A creator of strength, you say?” Odin seemed interested. Well, that was a good sign.

           

Number one objective: get the King to like him. “I also, along with the other Avengers, protect the Earth, Midgard, from all foes both within and without.” Objective two: make himself seem invaluable.

           

Odin seemed to contemplate this, and Loki took a chance and spoke up, voice now quiet. “Father, if I may speak.”

           

“Go on, Loki.”

           

Tony could feel a plan brewing. “If I could be permitted, I have a way of transporting myself and others to Midgard without the use of the Bifrost. In my study of the Tesseract, I discovered how to manipulate my sorcery and create temporary portals between realms. I could take Stark back to his home, but my sentence would have to be altered to allow for the passage.”

           

Odin looked down upon his adopted son. “That is a large request, Loki.”

           

Finally sounding rational, Loki nodded once. “I know that, Father.” He paused, appearing pained to say his next words. “I am willing to prolong my sentence, to double its current time if I would be allowed to leave Asgard for Midgard.”

 

“A noble sacrifice, my son.” Well, it had not been immediately shot down. That seemed like a good sign. “Why do this for a mortal?” And there was the question, that one question that Tony still could not quite figure out. It was nothing as simple as love. Love was not even a part of the equation. Love was nothing compared to the need of companionship as the shadows closed in around them in the dark of night.

           

“He is my friend, Father.” Loki’s voice dropped to a gentle, caring tone that Tony had not yet heard. “I would not confine him and subject him to my own punishment.”

           

It appeared to have worked on Odin, whether it was true or not. Tony could never tell with the Liesmith. “Very well, Loki. You will be granted free passage to Midgard, though while you are there, you will not be permitted the use of your magic other than to return here. If you do, the consequences will be dire.” Tony really did not want to know what ‘dire’ meant in the realm of Gods. He could work it out for himself.

           

“I understand my restrictions,” Loki acquiesced, bowing his head to the Allfather, pressing his fist to his chest.

           

Odin pounded the marble floor with his scepter, the deep ring echoing all about the broad, extravagant chamber. “It is done. I, Odin Allfather, grant this to you, Loki Odinson.” He turned and sat upon his throne once more, addressing the mortal. “Tony Stark, you may take your leave. Please, as a friend and ally to my sons and as an esteemed warrior of Midgard, make your place amongst us as an honorary guest. It is not often that we get welcome visitors from other realms.” Tony briefly wondered how many _unwelcome_ visitors they got. Odin turned then to his adopted son. “Loki, please stay and tell me of the past weeks.”

           

Tony moved to speak, but was cut short as Loki turned sharply, giving him a hard look that said ‘I command you to go or else.’ Getting the not so subtle hint, Tony bowed awkwardly to the Allfather and retreated from the throne room as fast as he felt was courteous, which meant at almost a run. He was used to dealing with the press and with conferences, but nothing had prepared him to stand up to a king of the Norse gods. The power behind the man left his knees weak, and he was glad to leave that imposing throne room.

           

He exited the grand entranceway and came to the grand, gilded hallway. He turned to his left, but stopped, realizing that he really did not know the way back to Loki’s rooms. Not wanting to stoop low enough to ask directions, he figured he would just wait for his companion. Tony picked a spot along the long length of pillars and leaned against one, the closed doors of the throne room within sight.

           

It may have been one hour or three before Tony was disturbed from his quiet observation of the city below. Time seemed to turn still in Asgard, lingering only on the most beautiful times of day. Beams of light shone through the steep buildings, waterfalls flowing off the tallest of them and seeming to disappear into the distant mist. It certainly was the City of the Gods.

           

Tony stood in silent reverie of the view, trying to calculate exactly how the magnificent structures had been created, when the throne room doors slammed open with enough force to shake the pillar he was leaning against. Loki burst forth after them, face distorted with rage and pain. Tony, as strong-willed and emotionally rock-like as he was, was shaken by the god’s expression as he stopped, standing stiffly and staring at the polished marble at his feet. The grand doors ground shut behind him with a deep, dull rumble.

           

It was all he could do to not flinch away when those dark eyes turned his way. That was one feeling that he hated that he sometimes, if not often, felt towards the god: fear. He was unpredictable; he was a wild panther caught in a cage and all it would take to set him off would be a slightly misplaced hand. He was on the edge of a knife, struggling between wanting to do good and getting accepted, and destroying all who stand in the path to his glory.

           

Tony was unsure of who it was that grabbed his arm and dragged him forcibly down the hallway: the God of Mischief or the Author of Woes. Before he knew it, they had turned a corner and gone halfway down another, more shadowed hallway. He was thrown against the wall between pillars, hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Tony was helpless to the raging god’s strength, and neither did he want to be the one to provoke the sleeping panther. He simply let Loki do as he willed, forcing the fear out of his expression.

           

Loki’s hands gripped his shoulders harshly, breathing labored and catching, eyes lost and unfocused. Taking a chance, because that is what Tony Stark _did_ , he slid a gentle hand around the god’s side, coming to rest at the small of his back. That single gesture seemed to unlock something in the god, moving him into action. He dove forward, ravishing Tony’s mouth for all it was worth. It was harsh and desperate, and Tony did nothing to quell the needing embrace. He simply wrapped both arms about the god and held him close, submitting to what he knew the god desired in that moment. It was pure physical acceptance. Acceptance of who he was, what he had done, and what he could be. It was allowance of his desire, rather than punishing it. If Tony had not acquiesced to Loki just then, he knew, deep in his heart, that the god would have been irreparable.

           

Loki broke away from the passionate lip lock, some of his sane self having returned to those previously lifeless eyes. He still clung to Tony, his arms suddenly trembling.

           

The man stared deeply into those hurt eyes that were searching his face for answers. He placed a hand on the god’s arm, gentle and calming. “Loki-”

           

A distant voice broke through the almost painful interaction. “Brother!” Loki winced and reluctantly pulled away from the embrace.

           

Tony cleared his throat. “Ring ring, ring ring, hammer phone.” He watched as Loki slowly put on his masks and noticed a single tear clinging to his pale cheek. Tony reached to brush it off, but Loki retreated violently.

           

The expression on his face was savage, raging. “Don’t you dare-” He stopped the snarling, automatic remark, eyes settling on Tony, finally _seeing_ him. The god almost stumbled back, finally seeming to realize just what he had done. The rage had melted instantly, brows knitted in remorse. He opened his mouth, but before any words of apology could be uttered, Thor turned the corner and Loki stiffened, all attention focused on his approaching brother.

           

“Brother, you take Father’s words too harshly,” Thor tried to console Loki as he approached and stopped a few feet from him. Tony saw his fellow Avenger glance over at him and he gave a nod in greeting before turning back to his brother.

           

“Then he should not _speak_ so harshly, or with such… _gusto_ ,” Loki spat, his voice like acid, but choked by tears. “ _Óvitr fylkir_.”

           

All Tony felt towards the god at that moment was concern, and he let it flow into his words. “What did he say to you?”

           

“He was only trying to be a king,” Thor defended.

           

Loki pressed a palm to his forehead, smoothing it back over his hair as he spoke. “He told me that my sentence had not been harsh enough for my crimes and that the Chitauri had the right idea. How _dare_ he suggest something so horrid? I have always been like a son to him.”

           

Thor lowered his voice. “Loki, you _are_ his son.”

           

He scoffed. “Then perhaps he should have raised me better.”

           

Tony shook his head. “And I thought _I_ had daddy issues.”

           

Loki turned his gaze upon him then, eyes softening. “Count yourself lucky you do not have Odin Allfather as your king and father.”

           

“Loki, do not be too upset at Father,” Thor tried to reason. “He has still agreed with your suggested alterations to your sentence.”

           

“Yes, there is that,” Loki nodded reluctantly. He sighed. “I must take my leave. Stark, follow at your leisure.” With that, he turned and continued down the hallway.

           

“I’m at my leisure now,” Tony quickly replied and moved to follow, but his shoulder was caught by a massive hand and his forward motion was gently stopped. Tony turned to Thor, an eyebrow raised.

           

“Friend Stark, I would speak with you.”

           

Tony shrugged. “What is thine desire?” He turned to look at the retreating Loki just as the god looked back to see if he was following. The briefest of flashes of disappointment flickered across his expression before he turned away, continuing on his way to his rooms.

           

“Have you eaten yet?” Tony responded with a negative. “Let us dine and speak of things.”

           

“Lead the way.” Thor led them into a different dining hall than the one he had eaten in the evening before. They sat upon one of the long tables, only a few of the surrounding tables occupied.

           

As they filled their plates with grand food from platters before them, Thor began with his first question. “I trust my brother has not come to harm you in his fixing of your missing heart?”

           

“The arc reactor is not my heart, per se. It just makes it so my heart doesn’t get pierced by the shrapnel in my chest.” Tony could see that this bit of information was lost upon the god. He amended his explanation. “It’s been doing fine. Not as good as having an arc reactor, but that spell he put on me seems to be keeping me alive. I mean, it’s stopped aching at least.”

           

Thor nodded, chewing his food with gusto. He was silent for a long moment, taking a few more bites before asking another question. This one he asked carefully. “What do you see in my brother?”

           

Now, that was certainly a delicate question that could be taken in many different ways. Tony decided to clarify before he leapt into describing how damn sexy Loki was and how great it felt to have his cold breath spread across his neck, with those soft lips caressing- “What do you mean?”

           

“He is my dearest little brother, but he is also my enemy. I love him enough to hurt him, to make him see the error of his ways. You see him as a friend. What is your opinion of his nature?” Well, that was not quite as clarifying as Tony had hoped, but it was a start.

           

Tony had to think over his answer over a few bites of food before he spoke. “Loki doesn’t know what he wants,” he began slowly, picking up momentum as he went. “He doesn’t know what is expected of him. He doesn’t know how to do things without mischief. It’s just the way things are for him. He put it very well to me before. Something about me not being able to be a monk.” As Thor gave him a questioning look, Tony clarified. “Him not using deception and mischief, well, it would be like you not being able to use Mjolnir. It is part of who you are.”

           

The god contemplated this for a moment. “He has never spoken to me of that in this way before.”

           

“Perhaps you should listen more,” Tony suggested, shaking a fork at Thor for emphasis. “He really is quite pleasant if you don’t get all up in his grill. He really doesn’t like it when you start accusing him of things without hearing his side first.”

 

“You mean, let him speak and do not speak back at him?”

           

“Precisely. He really enjoys using that silver tongue of his, so let him finish when he talks. He’ll be most appreciative.”

           

Those piercing blue eyes below those golden brows peered intensely at Tony and he almost feared that they could read exactly what had transpired the night before in all of his actions. “You must have spent much time with him.”

           

Tony shrugged. “Not a whole lot, actually. He would get taken away during the day and would return late. We were in a stressful situation and things just come out, like an abused, neglected childhood, or getting ignored for all accomplishments because there was always someone better and outshining in everything he did.” He was speaking for both himself as well as Loki in that.

           

Thor stared at him intently. “To what are you referring?”

           

“Oh, that should be a conversation between you two. I’d best stay out of it. I was just able to relate.”

           

“Very well.” They continued to eat, the conversation turning to lighter topics, reminiscing about their grand achievements in battle, both their own individual triumphs and their shared experiences. As they finished their meal of hearty food and mead, Thor stood, a thought appearing to cross his mind. “Friend Tony, I would very much like to show you around the palace. You may be staying here for some time as Loki recovers and I wish for you to feel at home here.” With that, Thor launched into full tour guide mode, proudly showing off all of the nooks and crannies of the grand castle of the highest of the Æsir. Each room seemed to have an elaborate story to go along with it, all of which were told in great detail and fervor. They even came across Thor’s mother, Frigga, and exchanged a pleasant introduction. It was already nearing sunset before Tony even realized that time had passed.

           

Before they parted, Thor offered him a pleasant goodnight. “I will leave you to your evening. If you are in need of anything, and if my brother cannot provide it, ask one of the guards.”

           

Tony stopped his retreat with a gesture. “One more thing, big boy…”

           

After following the detailed instructions given by Thor, Tony found himself standing before the newly familiar carved doors that opened into Loki’s hearth room, realizing that he was rather starving and looking forward to yet another Asgardian meal, perhaps with a bit more mead this time and a different god keeping him company. He entered and was surprised to find it dark within, the heavy curtains drawn. After his eyes adjusted, he could just see Loki sitting in his high-backed chair, staring into the desolate fireplace. The god did not seem to notice him enter, leaning to the side and propped up with a clenched fist, the knuckles pressing on his lips. He still did not acknowledge Tony’s entrance until he stood just before him and looked down upon Loki, their knees just touching.

           

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you sitting in the dark like an angry, lonely prince?” It was actually a pretty accurate description of Loki.

           

The answering voice was quiet, haunted, green eyes clenching shut. “It was too soon to relive the torture.”

           

“So you thought throwing me against the wall and trying your best to suck my soul out would help?” Rather than sounding accusatory, Tony softened his words. He felt that gentleness would serve the god much better than harshness at this moment.

           

Loki seemed to shrink into himself. “I thought it might help.”

           

“Did it?”

           

“No,” he answered quietly.

           

“Want to try it again?”

           

“No- yes.” Loki sighed in defeat and shook his head. His eyes still did not look up to meet Tony’s. “No. I want you not for my own solace.”

           

Tony never figured he would be playing the part of a therapist to a god who had tried to take over the world. Well, there was a first time for everything, right? “So, why do you want me?”

           

“You are my friend,” he answered readily enough. “You bring me peace; you make me feel wanted. You seem to enjoy it as well, so why do you want _me_?” Almost glowing green eyes finally found the searching brown hovering over him.

           

There were so many years of forlorn in that gaze, so many centuries of not being enough for any around him who he cared about; there was so much pain over being forgotten, trodden on and shunned. “You fascinate me, like I intrigue you. I enjoy solving puzzles, and you are one that I somehow can’t solve. But I am thoroughly enjoying the process. Besides, you’re one hot ass of a god.” With that, Tony placed a hand on Loki’s cheek, thumb brushing against those lips made for lies, but were so good at so much more.

           

Loki grabbed Tony’s hips in his hands, a deep growl of lust growing in his throat.

           

“Oh, no,” Tony pressed the god away. “Rule number one of humans: we require food, not just war and sex to stay alive.”

           

The god sighed, seeming to lighten up a bit. “Such boring lives you lead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we had to survive off of sex and war, the world would be a much different place. Just saying.  
> Old Norse translation: Óvitr fylkir - ignorant king.  
> Oh, did anyone spot who got Loki’d and how in this chapter? Props to you if you did!


	8. Kings and Brothers

Yet another lavish meal was spread about them, though Tony barely tasted it, as he was already being devoured by Loki’s gaze. The few pints of mead he had were certainly not helping. Once they had finished, Tony with a pleasant buzz about his head from the godly drink, his most gracious and holy fucking damn sexy host at that very moment, lead him away from his private dining room and back into the hearth room. Tony, wanting to fully appreciate the pleasures of Asgard, before he was pleasured by the Asgardian prince, pulled back the heavy drapes that covered the windows and the room glowed in the golden sunset over the City of the Gods. The view overlooked a magnificent waterfall with golden towers rising, though not as high as their own tower. If Tony had not been quite used to heights from using the Iron Man suit, he was sure he would have fainted at the sheer drop just outside the broad, tall window. Loki approached from behind him as he gazed, arms winding around his middle to caress his chest through the polished leather vest. He breathed coolly into his ear, sending a chill down Tony’s spine.

“So, you have a nice view. That’s coming from me, by the way, and I built Stark Tower.”

Loki pressed himself to Tony’s back. “I suppose this is what I call home. At least I have called it home for most of my life, up until just recently.”

“Tell me about Asgard.” He was genuinely curious, but his half-drunk mind really just wanted to hear that voice in his ear.

The god laced a hand with Tony’s, drawing it up and pointing a finger out at the wide scene before them. “That white building, the one with the carved wooden horse heads. Those are the grand stables. All of Asgard’s finest mounts reside there.”

Tony smirked. “Even your own eight-legged son?”

Loki sighed. “Especially him. Over there,” he pointed Tony’ hand to the distance, where the edge of the world appeared to be. A shining walkway appeared to abruptly end just before the sea cut off and flowed into the vast space below. “That is the broken Bifrost. Thor was the one to strike the blow that shattered it, but I was blamed for it being destroyed.” 

“Isn’t it time that thing was repaired?”

Loki scoffed. “The last time I had a builder repair Asgard, I ended up giving birth to a colt.” The small amount of bitterness continued to build as he spoke. “That monstrosity,” he pointed to the magnificent castle, all golden towers, one of which Tony knew they resided in, “is where we were today, the castle of my father, where the throne of Asgard sits.”

“Yes, Thor showed me around the castle today. It’s um, it’s pretty big.” 

“Indeed. One day, Thor will sit upon that throne as the King.”

“Did you ever want it? The throne?” Might as well ask.

“Perhaps.” Loki rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder as he spoke, the bitterness having melted away. He could just barely feel the brush of chilly lips on his skin, the icy breath flowing over him. “I may have fancied myself a better ruler than my brother, but it seems that I have been proven wrong.” Even saying that, the god remained calm, sounding logical.

Tony knew he was prying, but damn, if Loki was willing to talk, he wanted to know. “How would you rule? I mean, besides having everyone kneel. That would get depressing.”

“I would prefer to stand far above the populace, ruling not by force but by words. Through that, I would maintain order. I have been called Silvertongue on occasion,” the god added, breathing it into Tony’s ear. Yet another shiver got sent down his spine. Shit, at this rate-

“Do you still want to rule?” 

“I can rule in my own way, without involving whole populations.” A grin entered his voice. “Did you notice just how I altered my sentence?”

Tony shrugged. Well, sure. He had been there. “You can take me back to Earth, but you can’t use magic while you are there.”

That time Loki did chuckle. “See, it even got past a genius. I put neither restraint on my time on Midgard, nor am I restricted as to how many times I can travel there.” Well, there was the Sly God for you. “Not using magic is a small sacrifice. I can come and go as I please. Do you know what that implies?” Suddenly, the conversation got a little fogged with steam, Loki pressing even closer to the man, hands wandering.

Tony grinned. “I get visiting hours?”

The next words were growled hungrily in his ear. “You can get visiting weeks. My father may realize his mistake, but nothing can be done. His word is final.”

“So I could just snap my fingers,” he demonstrated, “and have my own personal sexy god appear at my door? That’s even better than ordering a girl in a cake.”

That earned him a low laugh from just behind his ear. “No, Stark. This is where I rule.” The touch suddenly disappeared in a wink, Tony stumbling back a step, suddenly much more sober. His vision of the now red sunset was then blocked by the silhouetted god, instantly appearing before him, pressing himself flush to Tony’s front. His breath hitched as those long fingers dug into his ass. “I will come to you as I please. I am still a god, and nobody mounts a god.”

Tony tried to assume the stance of someone who always has a god disappearing and reappearing around him. You know, casual. It was not working out in that instant. “So, you appear out of the blue? What if I have guests?”

“I will know,” he growled, biting at Tony’s earlobe.

“So,” Tony gulped as a third chill ran down his spine, that chilly breath washing down his neck, “I am at your beck and call? Sounds like being a little spoon to me.” If nobody mounts a god, then damn it, Tony was not the little spoon.

Loki chuckled. “You Midgardians and your phrases-”

“-Could say the same about you-”

“-Alright. I will try to appease my Man of Iron.”

“How will you do that, exactly? Because, you know, I have a little somebody who really wants to know.”

That little Midgardian term Loki seemed to get. Judging by just where he put his hand ever so briefly, Tony really did not doubt he knew exactly who that little somebody was. “First, I will strip you of this garish costume.” Nimble fingers began unbuckling the clasps in the front of the vest he wore over the red robe. 

Tony grinned. “Go on.” The vest was pulled off, and the robe pushed off of his shoulders, landing on the floor in a crimson heap. The still disturbing hole in his chest only gained a swift glance by Loki.

“Then you will strip mine,” Loki continued the instructions. He drew close to the shirtless man. “Slowly.”

“It’d be slow anyways. It’s hard to take all your leather stuff off.” Tony did not want to think of the last time he had done it, with the blood seeping through the woven strips.

“No complaining.”

Tony chuckled. “Fine by me.” He began the tedious work of stripping the costume off, layer by layer, beginning with the cloak, which landed heavily on the floor as his own robes had. He began the laborious process of loosening the tight lacing of the metal and leather shirt. “Why so many damned layers?” That had been a question, not a complaint.

Relishing in the hard-working fingers at his side, Loki responded, “A god must keep up his appearance.”

“Can’t you just settle for jeans and a hoodie?”

“And take away all this fun? Never.” His long, cool fingers traced designs up and down Tony’s bare back, sending continuous waves of desiring chills down his spine.

“Finally.” The leather and metal fell to the floor, but there still remained a black silk undershirt, along with the leather greaves. The latter went first, hitting the floor one right after the other in haste.

“Slowly, remember.” Tony groaned at the reminder, the prolonged wait just about killing him. He was Tony Stark. He did not wait for sex. However, he did want to appease this mischievous Asgardian, for some stupid as hell reason. He let his hands trail down the slim but still muscular chest, over the silk, and then underneath it, moving upward then, pulling the cloth up as he progressed. At the first sighting of a perked nipple, Tony dove forward, wrapping an eager tongue about the pink flesh. Loki moaned, clutching a handful of the man’s hair in his fist. Tony continued his ascent, pushing the shirt up and out of the way of his trail of hot kisses across creamy white skin. The scars criss-crossing the chest were already faint pale lines. He swept the garment over long black locks, tossing it and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. Continuing the kisses to more northerly skin, still shocked by how chilly it was when pressed to his lips, he made his way up the god’s neck, ending at the corner of his mouth. 

Loki grinned, satisfied with the performance. In reward, he pulled Tony in for a lusty exchange of lip and tongue. Tony’s hands wandered to the lacings of Loki’s breeches, making quick work of it. His fingers dipped just under the loosened hem.

Tony broke away from the lock of Loki’s lips. “What next?”

“To appease you for having you at my fingertips, you will take me.”

He really was not sure if this was just another of Loki’s tricks. Tony raised an eyebrow. “Your ass? What was that about no god getting mounted?”

“I will still be on top.” With that, Loki walked Tony to the nearest couch and he had no choice but to stumble backwards over it and sit upon its soft surface. 

“That, um,” Tony gulped down a hitch of desire, “yeah, that’ll work.”

Loki stood before Tony, an obvious problem in his pants. “Finish the previous command, Stark.” Needing no further encouragement, he tugged the hem down past the lovely ass, having just a bit of trouble getting the cloth over the rather cumbersome and enlarged godly dick. It stood before him, in all its saluting glory, and he was overcome by a sudden and compelling urge. Tony grasped the hips between his palms and pressed a lingering kiss to the weeping head. Loki moaned, once again gripping a handful of that unruly short hair. Tony could feel his own member stirring, almost painful with need under his own Asgardian pants, as he wrapped his mouth around the god. 

The act was quite new to him, but he felt, given his experience as a self-proclaimed playboy, that he knew just what would feel fucking fantastic. He used all of the techniques that he had experienced himself at one point or another, and soon the god was moaning and panting uncontrollably, gripping the pleasuring man’s head and neck for much needed support. It was quite a series of long moments before Loki appeared to realize something.

“This- ah-” he choked out between gasping and groaning in pleasure, “-wasn’t an order- ah-!” He lost himself as Tony gave a particularly hard suck, releasing himself into the receiving mouth. Tony swallowed hard, and then took a much needed breath of air.

“No complaints, though.” Damn, was he satisfied with himself.

“None,” Loki breathed, pressing Tony back onto the couch. He deftly removed the remainder of the man’s clothing. “Now, for your pleasure.” He climbed over the man, producing a bottle of oil from who knows where. He pressed it to Tony’s palm. “I trust you know what to do with this part.”

Tony scoffed. “Playboy? Obviously.” He was not entirely sure what he had not tried. Well, with women at least. He opened the bottle, moistening his fingers, and set to work, opening the god with one finger and then two. Loki moaned at the invasion, easily brought back to arousal. He stretched and worked at the tight entrance, reveling in the panting god hovering above him.

Loki leaned down, voice low and breathy with desire. “Take me now, Stark.” Needing no further insistence, Tony guided Loki down and around himself. Loki cried out a loud, “Ah!” as he was entered, tensing only momentarily before he set himself into a slow rocking motion.

Tony marveled at the trickster god above him, arcing his back with his head tossed backwards, gasping in unabashed lungfulls of air as he raised himself up and down. It was a side of Loki that Tony had yet to fully comprehend. The god was giving himself fully to the man, but still holding on to controlling the situation with little effort. It was the manipulative trickster at pleasure, rather than at work. Still a manipulative little fuck, but in such a good fucking way. In an instant, Tony decided he quite enjoyed this side of the god. Reaching up, he smoothed a hand down that cold chest already glistening with sweat from glorious exertion. At that simple motion, Loki turned bright eyes down on Tony, took one lusty sweep of a look, and dove down to latch himself onto the mortal’s shoulder, sucking and biting and marking him once more. 

It would appear that Loki had gained a bit of his strength back. It was good to see him in a state of bliss rather than in pain. Tony relished in the fact that it was he who was providing that bit of pleasure in the god’s recently miserable existence. It may just be postponing the inevitable painful healing of so many hurts of the heart, but damn it, Tony was determined to enjoy every second of this procrastination.

They moved as one, pitching and thrusting in a tangle of arms and legs and flesh and lips. All was silent but for their collected moans and the sound of their bodies colliding in a most satisfying clap of flesh on flesh. 

“Rísa, reka, minn hestr,” Loki moaned and breathed, digging his fingers into Tony’s shoulders. “Rísa, reka.”

Tony guided the god’s hips up and down, fingers buried deep in the muscled ass, rising to meet Loki’s undulating body with his own lusty thrusts. The room slowly became darker as the light of the sunset made way for the glow of the moon. The movements became more and more frantic and needy as their climax neared. Each pulled more and more from the other, needing more touch, more stimulation, more acceptance, more recognition. 

Eyes clenched shut, Tony may have called out his partner’s name as lightning danced across his dark vision. He felt wetness pool on his stomach, Loki coming to his second finish as Tony released into the god, riding out the orgasm with relish. As he became aware of himself once more, he found Loki with his forehead pressed to his shoulder, breathing heavily. The breaths turned into small chuckles as he repositioned himself beside Tony, wrapping a lazy arm over his sticky and slick chest, damp with spunk and sweat.

Quite giddy as well, Tony found himself giggling right along. “Yeah?”

“Indeed,” Loki sighed, sounding more relaxed and satisfied than Tony had ever heard him.

“Yeah.”

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No, no. Thank you’s go like this.” Tony pressed Loki to the back of the couch, gaining access to the god’s neck, which he kissed.

Loki grinned. “Ah, yes.” Suddenly, he stiffened, eyes growing wide in fear. “Oh no-”

A jolt of something ran through Tony. He refused to call it fear. His sex-induced haze of giddy happiness was quickly dissolving. “What?” A hand was hastily clapped over his mouth.

“Not a sound,” was hissed dangerously. Just then, the grand door opened out of sight and a very familiar but never a less welcome voice boomed in the room.

The booming voice rang out, carefully neutral in its tone. “Loki, I have come to see that you are well.” Tony thanked all the fucking gods, mostly the one he was fucking, for having chosen the couch that faced away from the door, effectively hiding their naked and still rather entwined bodies from the God of Thunder’s gaze. Loki raised a hand, silently mouthing the words of a spell, face set in concentration. Just then, a very solid-looking and fully clothed Loki clone stepped through the door that lead to the bedroom.

The illusion spoke, sounding just as Loki-ish as the real deal. “Must you always worry about me, Brother?” He stepped forward, just to the edge of the couch where Tony and the very much solid Loki lay.

“You should stop giving me things to worry about,” Thor retorted. The prince really did sound concerned for his brother, and if Tony could see his face, he was sure it held all of the worry in all of Asgard.

“I am fine, presently,” the clone spoke shortly.

There was a pause, then, “Where is Tony?” Tony almost moved, but the hand covering his mouth tightened, holding him in place. Loki always had a plan.

The clone shrugged. “He said he grew tired, so he went to his chamber to rest. Why so mistrustful still?”

Thor’s voice was harsh and accusing. “You are no true friend of his. I have seen this act before, Loki, and I have observed how they all turn out. You use others to get what you desire. Now, you desire freedom. At what cost do you think you will achieve that?” A heavy boot fell onto the floor, the thundering god taking a threatening step forward. “I will not see my friend harmed at your hand.” Tony looked up at the real Loki’s pained expression, raising an eyebrow.

The real Loki did not respond to Tony, but the clone responded to Thor, voice acidic. “You think you know all there is to know about me, Thor Odinson.” His tone grew dark. “Never for a second should you trust your judgments towards me. They will always be wrong.”

Thor seemed to take a step backward, the words striking him deep. His next sentence was much softer than his last. “Tony told me that you must deceive, just like I must fight with Mjolnir. Is this true?”

“A crude way of putting it, but yes, that is true.” The clone drew itself up, standing taller than before. “A god cannot dismiss his powers and we each must live with our own limitations.”

“Perhaps we punish you for being yourself,” Thor thought out loud, sounding more the companion Tony had come to know rather than the God of Thunder.

The Loki clone gave a defeated gesture. “And the Mighty God Thor finally gets it.”

“Why not explain this to Father?” He tried to sound encouraging.

Illusion Loki scoffed. “He will not listen. I have tried before, and he will never see my actions as anything other than gestures filled with negative intention.”

“Perhaps I will speak to Father on your behalf.” Well, that was a nice brotherly thing to offer.

A shrug. “You may try.”

Tony could almost see the stern stare Thor gave to the fake Loki. “You look weary, Brother.” A step was taken forward, but it stopped advancing as the illusion raised a halting hand.

“I was just about to take my rest. I would ask for your leave.” The real Loki’s face was pinched, eyes tightly shut.

“Very well,” Thor graciously stepped away. “You have been through much, Loki. I will try speaking with Father on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Thor,” the clone said gently just as the door eased shut behind the god. The vision faded suddenly, Loki collapsing in exhaustion on Tony’s chest, breathing heavily.

Tony ran his fingers through those long, raven black sweeping locks. “That was quite the feat. I’m impressed.”

“It is a simple trick, and one that my brother never fails to fall for. It is a small spell, though my stores of magic are but a fraction of what they ought to be. I was unprepared to exert myself so.” He curled closer to Tony with a sigh. “Now I really do need a rest.”

“Agreed, but not here.”

“No, you are right.” Loki made no move to stand.

“Don’t make me carry you,” Tony threatened, wrapping his arms about the god’s bare waist.

“Would not dream of it. What kind of god am I if I cannot carry myself?” Tony thought back on all the times that Loki did have to be carried when they shared that forsaken cell. He held his tongue on the matter, moving to stand as Loki pressed himself up. They threw on a layer of clothing before retreating to the bedroom. Loki was asleep as soon as they settled under the thick covers, Tony intertwining their limbs as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -snicker, snicker- Godly dick. Oh boy. I kind of regret that one.  
> Old Norse translation: rísa, reka – rise, thrust. Minn hestr – my stallion.  
> Your reviews have been so lovely, thank you! Keep them coming. They always make my day!


	9. An Admittance and a Promise

It took a full week for Loki to recover his strength and magic, with the aid of a golden apple. As each day passed, Tony began to worry more and more about the condition of his heart, but whenever he voiced that concern, he would always be reassured by his own personal sorcerer and magnificent friend with extremely sexy benefits, that he would be fine. Loki would be summoned daily to his father’s court to debate over issues concerning the trickster. Judging by his frustration as he returned from these meetings, Loki was getting nowhere with Odin.

           

“To be expected from the Allfather. He supposedly sees all, but after he sacrificed his eye to the Spring of Mimir, he has not been able to see reason presented right before him, only the past and the future.” After one of these mournfully painful ordeals within that week of recovery, the pair had retreated from the rooms where Loki had been confined and were resting in the bathing pool. Loki’s escort was waiting just outside to take them back once they were finished.

           

“Why can’t you just move out?” Tony knew it would not be as simple as that, but at least he had to try.

           

Loki chuckled darkly. “If only it were that easy. He is the King of the Æsir. All of us under his rule also fall under his scrutiny. No matter where I am, he knows of my doings, and if he does not, then Heimdall the gatekeeper keeps him informed.”

           

Tony paused a moment, mulling that over. He stopped as a certain series of events and rather frequent exchanges between him and Loki came to mind. “All of it?”

           

That earned him a sly grin. “I learned long ago how to shield certain prying eyes from what I do in my private life.” A wave of relief flowed over Tony.

           

He sighed, “Oh, good. Perhaps you can give me a few pointers. I tend to make myself far too public.” Perhaps that was just his personality with the press.

           

Loki grinned, sneaking a lingering kiss behind the other’s ear. Casual intimacies had become far too common between them and for once, Tony did not mind. “The Allfather cares not who we choose as bed partners. Though, with my history of mates and the children that came from them, he most likely cares just slightly who I choose.”

           

“Oh yeah. That little matter of Ragnarok.” His hand came to rest upon Loki’s thigh beneath the steaming water. He was slowly getting used to just touching him like that. It was interesting, the way their relationship had evolved in the past week, let alone the past month. The desperateness had faded substantially, and the lust had increased tenfold. When they were not making wild love, they spoke of things, or they were satisfied to simply _be_ in each other’s presence. Tony found that his nightmares had stopped and likewise, he did not wake in the middle of the night to find Loki shakily clinging to him. It was a pleasant change.

           

“Little matter,” Loki mumbled, shaking his head. “You never seize to intrigue me, Stark.” Now, Tony did understand the severity of the threat Ragnarok held over the Asgardians. He had not been entirely idle for the past days of rest. He was slowly making his way through Loki’s bookshelves on the history of Asgard, among his studies of the properties of magic, which seemed to him to make about as much sense as his arc reactor would to a dim-witted baby. Loki had tried to explain how his magic was similar to Tony’s science, but the man was not buying it for a minute. He chalked it all down to Asgard being a different realm with different rules.

           

Tony nodded. “Oh good, I like keeping people on their toes. Or in your case, I like curling them.” To accent his claim, he smoothed his hand up and around the god’s thigh. He really did not doubt that the toes did curl just slightly at his not very innocent touch.

           

“No tact, as always.” Try as he might, Loki could not keep that little bit of desire from quirking his lips upward. The change was not lost on Tony.

           

“What, I thought that was witty enough.”

           

Loki leaned in close, gaze half-lidded. “Never compare wit with Silvertonge, Man of Iron.”

           

Tony shrugged. “I have my own strengths.” With that, Loki nodded in agreement.

           

Later, as they lounged on a couch in Loki’s hearth room with a book in each of their clutches, the god sitting straight as the man lay with his feet in his lap, a topic that had been lingering in Tony’s thoughts was brought to light.

           

It was Loki who spoke of it first, his voice soft and hesitant. “You never did comment on what my brother said.”

           

Tony glanced up from his book, a volume describing the astronomy of Yggdrasil, and clarified, since Thor tended to say a lot of things that warranted comment. “What was that?”

           

The prince did not meet the searching gaze. “He said I use others, and that I am using you to gain freedom.”

           

He recalled it with clarity. “Oh, when you were talking to him with the illusion while we were lying on this couch covered in spunk?” Damn, did he have a way with words or what? He should pat himself on the back more often.

           

Loki appeared to wince at the crude words. “Yes, then.”

           

Tony shrugged. “Everyone has skeletons in their closet. What is more important, I thought, was when you said that no judgments he makes will be true. In my experience, that has been rather true.”

           

“What have you judged me on, I wonder?” The book Loki was holding lay forgotten atop his lap.

           

“For one,” Tony put aside his own book, “I never figured you would ask for that drink after we beat the crap out of you and your army.”

           

Loki’s expression became pinched as he recalled. “I know when I am defeated.” Tony was sure it happened a lot for him.

           

“A good skill to have. Basic survival and all that.” Tony knew he, himself, was lacking in that department. “The next time… well, when you offered me the use of the bed after you got beat up pretty bad that second day we were imprisoned. I had tagged you as a bastard who would take all the comfort for yourself, you being a god and all that.”

           

That earned him a perplexed look. “I am mischievous, not cruel. My tricks may often lead to disaster, but they usually do not start out that way. You happened to fall under the plot of mischief that ended up well.” Ended up? Tony was quite sure they were not nearly through the mischief and to the happily ever after part. He was not sure there even would be an ever after with the trickster. All he cared about was the present moment, and that was enough for now.

           

Tony stared at Loki, looking deep into the god, searching. “Was that mischief, even? Sure, you may have started out just wanting me to like you so I wouldn’t have you killed, but it turned into more than that. I don’t know about you, but all I really wanted was comfort. That wasn’t a good place.”

           

Loki’s eyes grew distant, unfocused. “No, it was not.”

           

He knew it was pushing it, even now after a few days’ hard rest and much fantastic stress-relieving sex, but he had to venture. “You never did tell me what they did to you.” Those green eyes darkened, but Tony continued quietly. “I know you heal quickly and I saw just a fraction of the damage.”

           

The inner turmoil was plain on the god’s face as he slowly shook his head; gaze lost and haunted as he appeared to fight the memories. “I cannot. It was so hard explaining it all to Father-” Tony sat up, grasping those pale cheeks between his palms, forcing Loki to look him in the eye.

           

“I am not your father, Loki.” He appeared to come back into the present. Tony’s voice was harsh, raw, and real. “I understand torture. I get it. I never talked about my own experience to anyone. I just drowned myself in my work. You know what I got out of that?” Lost green eyes continued staring into his own, no response forthcoming. “My PTSD got worse. That’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s pretty much where you relive your worst experiences over and over, in your dreams, or just in emotion and reaction. I suffered for a long time, and it all came back to me when I got captured again. You saw me when I tried to sleep. Now, I may not be able to do magic voo doo to soothe you, but I can listen. _Can_ I listen?” Damn it, Tony had never been good with words of comfort and reassurance and here he was playing therapist again. He really was not good with a lot of this shit, but hey, he was trying.

           

Loki turned away and pressed his palms to his closed eyes. “Alright,” he agreed quietly after taking a deep breath. Tony sat back and waited expectantly as Loki stared out before him, appearing to not see the room. “The Chitauri are genius at inflicting pain without breaking skin, even though they sometimes do. It was not only my body they hurt; they played on my mind as well, slowly destroying any thoughts of comfort or happiness that I held. I was not just hurting physically, but my heart and head were also tormented.” Loki shuddered, and Tony placed a steadying hand atop his shoulder. “Those are the hurts that remained with me. I can heal all I want, but never could I escape the mental barrage. They- they made me relive torturous moments of my life. I am sure you know of my sons by Sigyn. I was made to watch the slaughter of one son at the jaws of the other, over and over again.” Loki paused, hunching forward and rubbing long fingers over his temples. He drew a few steadying breaths as Tony remained silent, reassuring hand still squeezing his shoulder. The god continued after a pregnant silence.

           

“They knew they could not kill me, but quite often it felt as though they might. When they cut my chest, that time you tried to help, they had already exhausted my magic with… numerous other hurts. I found that if I fell unconscious, they would stop their hurting and they could not reach my mind to torment me with memories. After a while, I found I could induce my own unconsciousness. I fear that I may have had to outdo it on occasion, which is how you often found me.

           

“Those were not the worst. They- they would inject me with a poison of some sort. It took my magic from me. That is how they were able to control me as they did. Each time, I grew weaker.” Green eyes dulled and the words were strained, almost whispered. “You can’t imagine how it feels to get the life drained from you.”

           

“I can, actually,” Tony interjected. Loki looked up, startled. “Before I perfected my arc reactor, it was poisoning me. I _know_ how it feels.”

           

Deep understanding ran between them, and even though they did not touch any more than Tony’s hand on Loki’s shoulder, it felt as though they were in the most intimate of embraces. “Then you know the feeling of horror as you slowly become less and less you, and more of an empty shell. I must,” he paused, glancing away, “I must thank you for bringing me back to myself.”

           

“What did I do? I thought you were just clingy, so I went with it.”

           

“In comforting you, I was able to find myself again.” Loki placed a reciprocating gentle hand atop Tony’s shoulder, staring deeply into those searching brown eyes. “You trusted me. You made me feel wanted. You, the human who I fought with, cared for me in my time of need.”

           

“Hey, you helped me as well. That nightmare thing? Yeah, that sucked, but damn you helped a lot. I only did what any other decent person would have. Perhaps with more gusto, but-”

           

“No,” Loki cut him off quietly. “No one has given me such a grand gesture of kindness before. Like I said, you gave me a second chance. In my past, I have been wanted dead for minor offences, even by my own brother. Were comfort and compassion the only reasons why you aided me?”

           

Tony thought for a moment on that. Was that all it was? Certainly not, but he really did not want to dwell on what he truly felt for the god. He was not supposed to feel anything but contempt towards his enemy… but his friend? Tony replied in the only way he could just then. “You and I are very similar. I just did whatever I would have wanted in your situation. I did what I craved for when I was captured in Afghanistan. Golden rule and all that.”

           

Loki leaned forward, pressing his lips to Tony’s neck, breath icy as usual. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I will mourn the time spent away from you.”

           

Relishing in the continued attention to his neck, Tony could not resist the temptation to be snarky. “Oh, don’t put it like that. Say something sexy instead, like, ‘I look forward to your dick.’”

           

The god drew himself up, face hovering just over Tony’s as he leaned over him, a sly, lusty grin on his face. The pain and turmoil that had dwelled in that gaze was all but extinguished. A hand trailed down Tony’s chest to hover just over his crotch, brushing the cloth ever so slightly with those long fingertips. “I lust for when we rejoin in a feat of hot passion, our bodies entwining in rapt pleasure.” He pulled away with a smirk.

           

Tony released the breath he had not known he had been holding. “Don’t stop there,” he complained.

           

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You wish to continue?” Did he ever not?

           

With an air of desire, Tony groped for the glorious ass he had come to love to squeeze and did just that. “Give me enough so I won’t be able to wait for you to show up at my doorstep.”

           

A tongue was swept over a sly grin. “You will not have to wait long.”

           

“I can wait until we get to the bedroom and we lock the door,” Tony replied to the roused god.

           

“Ah yes. Would not want dearest Thor to come in… again.” With that, Tony pressed himself off of the couch and marched through the door, glancing back on the smirking god, still lounging on the couch. Tony blinked, and the god was gone. The door closed solidly shut before him just as strong hands grabbed him from behind, lips once again finding his neck and sucking hard on the skin. Damn, when he went back to Stark Tower the next morning, he would have to remember to wear turtlenecks for the next week. Would not want the Avengers thinking he had disappeared for a month and a half in order to go to an orgy or something. He would not put it past them to think something like that.

           

One of those chilled hands immediately dove deep into the front of his pants, the other lifting his shirt and teasing a nipple. Loki pressed his hips to Tony’s ass, rocking them forward and back, up and down steadily as he massaged and worked the man’s sex to firmness. The man was helpless to the hands ravaging him, so he leaned back into the groping god, hissing in needy breaths. All Tony could do in the onslaught was undo the lacings of his own pants, then reach back and bury his hands in the god’s silky black hair, those chilly lips still working at his neck. Tony quite forgot himself, releasing tiny, grunting moans at every stroke, at every press of Loki’s groin.

           

Loki pulled his mouth away, deep, lusting breaths washing over goose-bumped flesh. “Tony, I want to take you.”

           

“Big- spoon-” Tony managed to gasp.

           

“I will be gentle.”

           

“Tony Stark will bottom for no less than a god.”

           

“Good thing I am one-”

           

“-Must keep up appearances-”

 

“-It is an honor to be taken by a god-”

           

“-The highest, I’m sure-”

           

“-I _need_ you, Tony.”

           

That last one floored the man. It was said with such deep wanting, needing. It was like a quiet cry of desperate loneliness, impacted when the god clutched him close, seeming to try his best to fully enclose Tony with himself.

           

His response was automatic, and he would have wanted to respond in no other way. “Alright.” He twisted his head to the side and caught those uncertain lips in a swift, brash kiss. He pulled away with a sly smirk. “I expect it to be magnificent, Casanova.”

           

Loki was quick to respond to the invitation and did so with much hasty relish. Tony’s pants hit the floor as they were quickly swept down, hands catching himself as he was pushed forward onto the bed. With further coaxing, he positioned himself on his hands and knees, awaiting whatever the god had in mind with no little amount of uncertainty. In that whole week, it had always been Loki to give himself to the man, though true to his word, he was always on top. Tony, in a very un-Tony-like fashion, had been hesitant to allow the god that much of himself in return. It was a trust thing, even if Tony would never label it as such. As it was, Tony figured it was about fucking time that he allowed himself to be royally fucked by a fucking royal god.

           

Teeth grated over the tender flesh of his ass, replaced then by cool kisses. A tongue was swept over his entrance. Tony gasped at the sensation. The rimming dragged on, tongue making quick circles around him, sending sparks of pleasure behind Tony’s clenched eyes. Well, that certainly was new and rather unexpected.

           

Then, a slick, cool finger pressed for entrance.

           

“Relax,” that soothing, aroused voice whispered. The man obeyed, and the digit entered him, bringing discomfort at first, but as the new sensation passed, pleasure replaced it. A second finger was added, pressing deeper. This brought a moan, which further encouraged Loki to stretch him further, scissoring the fingers gently. A third was added to the mix, and the three were thrust in once, something sending a spark of pleasure up Tony’s spine. He made this well known, but the fingers were soon removed, to much protest from the man being exquisitely pleasured. He was quite ignored.

           

Tony was then flipped onto his back, shirt pulled swiftly over his head. Loki pulled his own shirt off and hovered over the man, licking his lips lustily. Tony, unspeaking, removed the god’s pants, giving his needy prick a few swift strokes as it was freed. He relished in how the god closed his eyes at the contact, sucking in a breath to steady himself.

           

Loki leaned down close, voice deep with need and desire. “You are neither a spoon, nor are you a mare. You are a stallion. I will take you as one stallion takes another.” Before Tony could question how two male horses fucked facing one another, his leg was lifted and hooked over the god’s shoulder. He positioned himself and paused, hovering over Tony, looking every bit the prince that he was, afternoon sun from the open window gleaming on his pale skin, shining in his black hair. “Relax, remember.”

           

He pressed in, filling Tony as he gasped, clinging to the god’s shoulder and back – whatever he could get a hold of. Loki released a sigh of pure pleasure, brow knotted as he adjusted himself to the tightness.

           

Tony commanded his body to unclench, and it responded. “Loki-” he ground out, “I’m good. Go.” Needing no further encouragement, Loki pressed forward and pulled back slowly, easily working his way in and out of the man lying before him. On one particularly deep thrust, those sparks of deep pleasure Tony had felt before returned with a vengeance.

           

“That-” he gasped, “do that again.” With a chuckle, Loki thrust harder, hitting that sweet spot once again, bringing about yet another deep moan. “More,” he commanded, croaking with the strain of his intense pleasure. Loki set his brow, expression skewed with relish. The thrusts became faster, deeper, balls and hips slapping on skin, faster and faster, deeper and _fuck_.

           

Tony clung to Loki, lost in the pure sensation of another entering him. Never before had he permitted anyone this close to him. Never before had he been taken, back pressed down and receiving. Iron Man was getting royally fucked by the Asgardian prince. The thought barely flitted across his mind before getting swept away at another thrust forward, another shock of bliss arcing through him. It was an onslaught, what the god did to him, and he welcomed every bit.

           

“Please-” begging? Since when had he begged? It mattered not in that moment. They were beyond snarky comments and teasing, focusing instead only on each other, in the acceptance each felt with their intimacy. It was not just sex. It never had been. It was an attempt to stave off the horrendous memories they shared, and it appeared to be still working.

           

Loki complied readily with the desperate plead of his companion, grasping his forgotten, straining prick and squeezing, pumping it as he moved. This sent Tony into a frenzy, jolting his hips forward, meeting the god’s thrusts halfway. Sweat formed on his skin, growing lusciously cold with every frigid exhale given by Loki.

           

The god bit into his shoulder and growled out in that damn tongue that Tony still could not understand, “ _Ek eiga þú_.” He pounded deeper into the man.

           

It did not take Tony long to lose himself and come to a shuddering, pulsing orgasm, spilling himself onto both of their chests, Loki relaxing his swift stroking. He hovered over the man, brow still pulled together as he thrust a few more times. He pulled out just as a wave of ecstasy crossed his expression, coming to his own shaking end. His seed came to land on Tony’s chest, but neither cared as they collapsed together in a weak embrace, limbs intertwining.

           

“I think,” Tony said between deep breaths, “I might let you do that again sometime.” He winced as a dull ache formed in his lower back. “But,” he winced again as he tried to move, “not anytime soon.”

           

“Allow me,” Loki whispered in his ear, rolling Tony onto his side and pressing a palm to his lower back. He muttered an incantation and the soreness vanished, replaced with a deep, soothing chill.

           

Tony curled into the god’s chest. “I’m going to miss that when you can’t do magic.”

           

He was silenced by a deep kiss. “Speak not of your departure. Besides, the pain does not always come.”

           

Disobeying gods was what Tony _did_. “You told your keeper that we will be leaving tomorrow.”

           

Loki sighed, defeated by the man’s insistent nature. “Yes. I am back to full strength. There is no reason for you to stay here without your arc reactor for any longer than necessary.”

           

“Oh, I can think of a few reasons to stay here for a while. None are particularly good for my wellbeing, so I’ll hold off. But you will visit soon.”

           

“Yes, and often.” That warmed Tony just slightly from thinking of the bitterness of not having Loki in his bed every night to stave off the nightmares.

           

“Good,” he replied, pulling the god close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Tony gets all Dorothy on us. There’s no place like home… -click, click, click- … um, kind of. Stay tuned!  
> Old Norse translation: Ek eiga þú – I own/possess you.


	10. Scotch and Interrogations

Tony stood in his old clothes, both tee-shirt and long sleeved shirt immaculately clean and repaired, as well as his worn jeans. Well, the gods had not burned his clothes, so he made a mental note to do so at his earliest convenience. He and the God of Mischief stood on a balcony overlooking all of the grand city of Asgard. Loki stood before him, glowing green eyes looking like they were drinking in as much of the man as they could. Tony’s shoulders were clasped between Loki’s hands, and damn did he wish they were somewhere else, and that their week of rest and romping would never end.

           

“Remember, I cannot use magic in Midgard. The spell I placed on your heart will stop.”

           

Tony shrugged, trying to make light of the situation and rather failing. “I always keep a spare in the lab.”

           

The next part appeared to pain the god more than not using his magic. “I also will not stay. I do not know the situation of Stark Tower, nor do I know who will be there. Not yet, at least.”

           

This made sense, though Tony did not want it to. “Yeah, it would be a bad move if you appeared with me pretty much dying in your arms at the headquarters of the Avengers.”

           

Loki pulled him in close, the embrace not at all chaste. “I wish I could help, but there is far too much risk.”

           

Tony sighed, reciprocating the god’s need for intimacy in their final moments in Asgard and returning the embrace. “I can’t risk Bruce hulking out in my living room… again.”

           

That brought a wince from the god. “It was far too unpleasant the first time.” With that, Tony pulled his companion into a deep but brief kiss.

           

“Ready?”

           

Loki hummed, “Almost.” He pulled Tony closer and into a deeper, longer kiss. They hungrily worked , wishing to prolong that one moment. It was the god who broke away first. “Alright,” he said dismissively. “I will be dropping by soon. Until then, Tony.” Without waiting for an answer, he closed his eyes, and Tony felt he was wrenched away from the world, falling through darkness. He still fell, drowning in the shadows, flailing limbs, though he was not entirely sure they were still attached. He came to himself when he felt a cold, hard surface pressing against his cheek, brightness threatening his clenched eyes. A wonderfully familiar computer voice filled his ears.

           

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark.” Oh, good old Jarvis, always prompt.

           

A sudden pain filled his chest, immobilizing him on the floor for the time being. “Jarvis, where is Pepper? Or anyone else, for that matter?” His vision was weakening, modern interior decorations wavering in ways they really should not have been.

           

“Currently only Mr. Rogers is here. Should I call him for you?” Damn, Tony had never been so glad to know that Captain America was in the building.

           

“Tell him to go to the lab. Give him temporary clearance.” Fighting unconsciousness and writhing on the floor in a quite undignified manner, Tony really was glad that his computer butler existed.

           

“Sir, your arc reactor-”

           

“Yes, I know, Jarv.” He winced, pressing a palm to the empty hole that had come to feel so normal over the past week. “A new one is at my desk, third drawer down on the right- no, the left. Tell Steve that.”

           

“I will inform Mr. Rogers, sir.”

           

It was not ten minutes before the great Captain America, or Steve Rogers as he was currently dressed, burst through the stairwell landing and dashed into the room. Tony glanced up, unfocused eyes meeting what he knew must be an extremely shocked, concerned, and altogether too caring Steve.

           

“Tony! Where have you been?” The words seemed distant.

           

His own words sounded slurred to him. “Yes, yes, kiss, kiss, hello, hello. _Give me the damn reactor_.” He reached for it, missing twice before Steve placed it in his hand. He pulled up his shirt and locked it in place. It reacted instantly, triangle glowing, the machine humming to life. Tony took a breath as if he had not sucked in fresh air for a week, senses suddenly becoming sharp once more.

           

“Oh, wow. That feels nice,” he murmured, relishing in the quiet hum of the machine. He looked up to Steve, crouched beside him and looking quite beside himself. “Yeah, I have some explaining to do. All of the Avengers were notified of my prompt disappearance, I trust?” He shoved himself up from the floor, amazed to find it was easy to do, though Steve held his arms out just in case he needed assistance. Tony waved him off.

           

“We have been searching tirelessly for you. We had begun to give up hope.” Even though Tony had clearly not needed his help, Steve still stood ready.

           

“Oh, how thoughtful.” No contempt there, oh no. “Well, then I guess I should assemble them all to explain this. Some things may need to be done that requires the whole group. Oh, and no need to get Thor for story time, though I don’t know how you could get him here. He already knows all this. He would give the worst spoilers.”

           

“How would Thor-”

           

“All in good time, Cap. Now, get me a scotch. All Asgard has is mead and wine.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder and went to go sit at the bar.

           

“A-Asgard? Isn’t that where Thor comes from?” Steve made no move to follow, let alone to go behind the bar and get him a drink. The nerve.

           

“Yeah, long story. You’ll hear it. Now, scotch. One of those on the top shelf. Jarv?”

           

“Yes, sir,” the computer voice answered promptly.

           

“You’ve informed the Avengers of my miraculous return?”

           

“As soon as you landed, sir.”

           

Tony cringed. “Oh boy. Prepare for a party, Steve. This’ll be a good one.”

           

Tony was halfway through his second glass of scotch when he heard a helicopter approach and land on the platform of the tower. Soon, Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Clint Barton came down the stairs and through the door, faces as stony as ever. Must be an agent thing. They rushed toward him, most likely to give him a group hug, Tony suspected, when a very pissed off director cut their reunion short before it even began.

           

“Of all the idiotic things you have done, Stark, this one is looking to top them all.” And damn, Director Fury did not look happy. Then again, did he ever?

           

“Really?” Tony retorted, turning only halfway in his direction. “And here I thought sending a nuke into the portal was a stupid enough idea.”

           

The director’s eye stared at him, not amused. “That was risky, this one was stupid. Why did you not call for backup from at least one of the Avengers? We are supposed to work as a team. This is exactly why you were not recommended for the Avengers Initiative.”

           

“That was female Jet Lee who said that.” Tony raised his glass and drained it. ”I don’t think she has her priorities straight. And wow, here I thought I was going to get a warm welcoming party. You know, check up on old Tony to see how he is doing.”

           

“In my defense, I came to check up on you.” Tony turned to see that Bruce had also entered the room.

           

“Ah, see?” He turned accusingly back at Fury. “I do have a friend. Now, who are we missing?”

           

“Thor,” Fury supplied.

           

Tony waved it off. “Oh, no need. As I was telling Cap before my scotch, Thor already knows all this.”

           

Clint spoke up then. “How would he know? He is in god-land.”

           

“Apparently Tony was in Asgard,” Steve supplied. This was met with all-around surprise. Tony almost felt like he should be shocked himself.

           

Fury’s hard eye focused on him. “Fancied a visit?”

           

Agent Romanoff cut in. “That portal led to the realm where those creatures lived.”

           

Tony held up a finger. “Live. Present tense. Now, where is Pepper? Jarvis?”

           

“On her way, sir,” the computer readily replied.

           

Nick Fury was looking up to his name in the fury department. “Tony, shut up about your assistant and tell us what happened.”

           

“CEO, not assistant,” Tony was quick to point out. “Why don’t we assemble, since we are all so good at that, over on the couches?”

           

Steve, all about his damn order, put in his two cents. “Shouldn’t we go into the briefing room?”

           

“My tower, my terms. I want all of the comfort.” Tony stood, providing an example, and sat down on one of the long, curved and beautifully modern couches that sat in the middle of the room. Steve and Bruce readily followed, the agents taking their seats as well.

           

Director Fury sat last, barely contained rage at the back of his eye. “Why don’t you start talking?”

           

Tony raised a patient finger. “I’d prefer to wait for Pepper. Explaining this twice would be tedious.”

           

Nick’s rage was hardly contained. “If you discovered a threat, we can’t wait for-”

           

Just then, a door slammed open and a very frantic redhead entered the room with a shriek of, “Tony?” She ran over in her high heels, and Tony found himself in her tight embrace. “I thought you had died-”

           

“Pepper,” Tony tried to quell the woman, “I really don’t think I could die that easily-”

           

“-I was so worried!”

           

“We all were,” Natasha interjected in her strangely emotionless and yet completely empathetic way.

           

“Tony was about to brief us on his adventure,” Steve prompted.

           

“Adventure?” Tony could have laughed had it been a better adventure. “Yeah, you could say that. You could also say abduction and imprisonment. Oh, and forced labor.”

           

“Just start from the beginning,” Clint offered stoically.

           

“Alright, so I flew into what I thought was just a residual pocket from the portal. I happened to be wrong. I was transported into the Chitauri place. I don’t know exactly where, I just know it was definitely not nuked. I do know someone who might know where it was.” Well, might as well tell them, right?

           

“Thor?” Steve questioned. Close, but no potato.

           

“Not quite, spangled banner. His brother.”

           

There was a deadpan of silence, followed by a shocked group, “Loki?”

           

Tony nodded. “Yeah, he was there.”

           

Nick looked angrier than he had before, if that was possible. “Loki is supposed to be imprisoned in Asgard by Thor himself.”

           

Tony shrugged. “Well, he was taken by the Chitauri as well and imprisoned with me. But let’s get back to where I was.”

           

Steve took that moment to state his doubts. “But Loki is powerful and dangerous. How did he not kill you?”

           

That earned him a blank stare from Tony. “Can I continue?” The Avengers sat in silence, all eyes focused on him. “So, I got booted out of my suit-”

           

“Apologies for that, sir,” Jarvis cut in, “I had been overrun.”

           

“A system upgrade is in your future. So, first order of business would be to retrieve the suit. Who knows what the Chitauri would do with it.” That brought forth an onslaught of questions, only a few of which Tony picked out.

           

Natasha’s question was the first he heard. “How did you get back here if not with your suit?”

           

It was Steve who answered. “He did not have the reactor in his chest when he arrived.”

           

Then, Pepper. “What? Tony, what did you do with it?”

           

Tony raised his hands to calm the group. “Stop jumping ahead, I haven’t even told you guys anything important.”

           

“Shut up and let the man speak.”

           

“Thank you, Fury.” Tony continued. “So, the mini-Godzillas told me to make them guns that could be powered by an arc reactor.”

           

That scrutinizing eye of the director fell on him, deadpan voice filled with dread. “Tell me you didn’t.”

           

“Now it gets complicated,” Tony replied, not really answering the question for good reason. “Also, that’s where Loki comes in. Every day I did not finish the gun, they would torture him.” He averted his gaze to the lush white carpet. “If I refused, they would kill him.”

           

Clint sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sounds good to me.” Tony shot him a sharp look that was not missed by any.

           

“What did you do?” Always the interrogator, that Romanoff.

           

“I couldn’t be responsible for the death of a god.” Tony knew that sounded absurd to the people who had fought against the conquering god.

           

“I could,” Agent Barton supplied readily, darkly.

           

Tony still would not focus his eyes on any of his comrades. “Well, you weren’t stuck in a cell with him for a month and then some, were you? Perhaps you wouldn’t say that if you saw how screwed up they made him.”

           

Nick Fury, always the one to bring things down to Earth, spoke up. “You realize you are protecting the thing that tried to take over the world?”

           

Tony sighed, glancing guiltily up at the director. “This is where I knew you would have a problem.”

           

“I have a problem with the whole issue,” Fury said sternly.

           

“Well, Loki had a plan to get us out, and I figured if you guys hadn’t found me by then, then his plan would have to work.” He took a quick sweep of the Avengers. Bruce had an expression of concern, both the agents were as stony as usual, Nick Fury was furious, Steve was staring at him under a heavy brow, and Pepper looked like she wanted to keep talking, but dared not.

           

“The plan obviously worked,” Natasha encouraged him to go on.

           

“Somewhat,” Tony supplied. “Loki had to take my arc reactor and use up all the energy in it to make a distraction.” He held up a hand as the room started to speak. “They took away his power, so there really was no other option.”

           

Pepper was the one to speak next. “How were you able to, well, not die?”

           

“Loki again. He put a spell on my heart to keep the shrapnel away for a time. He then sent me to Asgard. That’s when Thor found me. We explained it all to him, as well as Odin. Loki struck a deal with the big king. Since the Bifrost is broken, the only way to get me back here would be for Loki to use his powers and teleport me back. In payment for getting permission to do that, Loki offered to double his sentence on Asgard.”

           

Natasha looked carefully at Tony, speaking slowly. “Why would he do that for you?”

           

“He must have a hidden plan,” Clint offered.

           

Fury asked the question that even Tony himself had asked. “How do we know Loki did not create the whole thing?”

           

Tony knew now. “No one could feign being tortured like that.” His tone was low, soft, and so raw that it stopped everyone. “I may get booted off the Avengers for saying this, but in our time together, Loki and I became friends.”

           

Clint scoffed. “Friends?”

           

Steve finally spoke up. “Fraternizing with the enemy is a serious offense.” That one cut Tony deep, so he had to leap to his own defense.

           

“Hey, he got me here alright, didn’t he?”

           

“He blew up your reactor, Tony!” Pepper’s voice rose up in pitch.

           

Agent Romanoff stared at the recently returned man. “But what did _he_ gain?”

           

Tony was ready for that one as well. “A second chance. From me, at least. You know, when he’s not all ‘kneel before your god, I will rule you,’ he is really quite-”

           

“Deranged?” Clint supplied lowly.

           

“-Pleasant,” Tony finished, glaring daggers at the bowman.

           

“Tony,” Nick leaned forward, hands clasped before him, “he killed many innocent people.”

           

“So have I,” Tony replied sternly. It was like a stone had dropped into the pit of the whole company’s stomachs. “They don’t call me Merchant of Death for nothing.” None in the room would meet his challenging gaze. “Well, if you want to kick me out of the Avengers for giving someone the same second chance I got, then get out of my tower.”

           

A single gentle voice rose from the heated silence. “I got far too many second chances myself.” It was Bruce who spoke. Tony met his soft eyes, deep meaning and understanding in the exchange. There was a man who went through his own Hell every time the other guy came out, and he was still accepted in this company.

           

“As have I,” Natasha offered quietly.

           

Steve spoke up next. “I think we all have that experience.”

           

Nick did not look too stoked on the matter, but he conceded to the will of the majority. “Very well. I will just rest easier if I know that Loki is safely behind bars.”

           

“He is confined in Asgard,” Tony lied. “He is an entire realm away.” He could not keep the softness from his voice, no matter how hard he tried.

           

After hours of more interrogation and much shouting, the Avengers disbanded, to resume their meeting the next morning. Tony was left with Pepper, who could not seem to keep her wet gaze off of him. She brought him another drink, staring intently at him as he sipped the amber contents.

           

She finally spoke. “Was it just me, or did you look sad when you said Loki was back in Asgard?” Damn, that woman saw through him every time.

           

“We went through a lot, Pepper. He is my friend-”

           

“-Is that a hickey?” Her voice suddenly became shrill. Well, shit.

           

Tony clapped a hand over the mark. “Pepper, it’s really not-” Not what? A big deal? Yeah, it really was.

           

“A friend isn’t all he is, is he?” Fuck, fuck- “By now, I know you better than you do yourself. Tell me, Tony! What, did he seduce you? Is that it?”

           

“Pepper, don’t-”

           

“Oh, I knew there would be other women, even if you promised you would try to behave yourself, but this-”

           

“He’s a god-” Nope, wrong thing to say. Her expression turned stony.

           

“Well, at least he’s that.” She stood and stalked away.

           

“Pepper! He’s-” The door slammed in her furious wake. “He’s all I had,” he finished softly to the empty room. He stared into his glass and drained it in one go, the fire of it burning down his throat, settling like a hot coal in his stomach. “And now I don’t even have him.”

           

A nightmare came to him that night, for the first time since he had left that forsaken cell. It was not unlike those of his time in Afghanistan. But this time, he was back in the Chitauri cell with Loki, Loki, who was bleeding before him, slowly growing whiter and colder. His heart was failing, and the god was dying.

           

Tony woke with a gasp, cold sweat making his skin cling to the sheets that wrapped about him. He felt as though someone had shaken him, but as he looked about the dark room, he was alone. He lay in the cold, dark room, thinking back on what the director had said to round off the meeting.

           

“Did your suit pick up any details on where you were transported?”

           

Not quite knowing himself, he asked the one who might know. “Jarvis?”

           

The mechanical, monotone voice responded readily. “I have readings of the portal, but I’m afraid I lost all control once you entered the portal, sir.”

           

Nick ran an aggravated hand down the side of his face. “Great. So, your piece of exquisite technology, plus the unfinished gun are in the hands of the Chitauri, and we don’t know where they are or how to get there.”

           

Tony shrugged. “Pretty much.” They had discussed the issue for hours before then, but their efforts proved fruitless.

           

“We will convene here every two days until we figure out this problem, beginning tomorrow.” Fury presented his plan of action. “During that time, we will use the information from Tony’s computer to gather more information. If by some miracle, Thor shows up, we can ask him for aid.”

           

Tony lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing only that he did not have to be alone to fight his nightmares. Codependency is a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Tony is alone! What is he going to do? Find out in Chapter 11 coming soon!  
> Much love to all of my readers and especially my reviewers! You guys are awesome.


	11. Research in the Lab, Bullet in the Door

The days passed in a flurry of calculating, computer screens, and rather a lot of frustration. Steve and Bruce stayed in Stark Tower to aid him in analyzing the portal’s information while the agents and the director went back to S.H.I.E.L.D. to use their own resources.

           

By the third meeting, the Avengers were becoming desperate.

           

Tony sat before the gathered Avengers in the briefing room, projected computer screens spread before them as they all sat on the long table in their individual high-backed chairs. “I extrapolated the code from the portal and all I got were Earth’s coordinates.” He sifted through screens of complex computer code, 3D graphs, and charts. “It doesn’t say anything about where the portal leads.”

           

Nick’s eye of scrutiny was no less belittling behind the glowing screens. “You have been working for a week, and that is all you came up with?”

           

Steve spoke up, the most lost out of the bunch, but he did have a point. “This is alien technology. It isn’t easy to understand.”

           

Tony grinned. “Someone should give them Hooked on Phonics. That might help.”

           

Ignoring Tony, Fury continued on the agenda. “What has S.H.I.E.L.D. found?”

           

Clint looked uncomfortable under the director’s scrutiny, but Natasha stepped in. “We couldn’t decode the language, but we were able to quantify the energy of the portal.”

           

“And?” Fury urged her on impatiently.

           

Agent Barton spoke up then. “We have the energy pattern calculated, but no way to locate it at its source.”

           

It was Bruce who spoke up next. “There is also the small matter of traveling there and back. We have some pretty nice ships, but none that can pass from one realm to another.”

           

“It would seem that you require assistance.” A smooth, cool voice washed over the Avengers into their contemplative silence. Tony’s heart dropped into his gut. Three days without that voice had felt like three months.

           

The room convulsed, turning to stare at the God of Lies and Mischief towering over the back of the empty chair at the head of the table. The agents sprung to their feet, handguns materializing out of nowhere while Steve stood, prepared to vault over the table and tackle the god to the ground if it came to that. Dread, mixed equally with deep relief, washed through Tony in that moment as he slowly turned to look at his companion. Well, at least he was not wearing his armor, but he still looked no less than a princely god in his Asgardian casuals.

           

“Loki-” he whispered, somewhere between a hiss of anger and a cooing of longing. He dropped a hand on the polished table before him, collapsing the virtual glowing computer screens.

           

“Loki,” Director Fury said slowly, dangerously, slowly pulling a hand gun and pointing it down the long table at the god. “Know that you are in enemy territory. We can and will kill you.”

           

The god wisely stood his ground. “All this, and all I want to do is help.” He made no move except to turn his head to glance at Tony, his expression carefully neutral. “See, Stark? People always assume the worst of me.”

           

Tony tried to assume the stance of normality, though he still sat stiffly forward in his chair. “In their defense, they’ve only seen the worst of you.”

           

Clint, gun still trained on the god, scoffed. “And there is a better side?”

           

“Doubtful,” Natasha answered, gun also held steady.

           

Tony looked around at the strain in his fellow Avengers. “Seriously, calm down guys. No bullet holes in my cherry wood panels.”

           

Nick addressed the man, but kept his eye firmly locked onto the god. “You’re telling me to calm down when there is a psychotic, manic, mass-murdering, and deranged god in the room with us?”

           

Clint locked and loaded his gun. “What if he starts blowing us up?”

           

“I can’t use magic on Midgard,” Loki explained calmly. “That is part of the terms by which I can be here.”

           

That dark, angry eye turned on Tony, Fury’s accusing gaze falling heavy. “Is that true, Stark? You said he was safely locked away in Asgard.”

           

“He was supposed to be,” Tony hissed through clenched teeth, giving the god a sidelong glance.

           

Loki shrugged. “I am called Silvertongue. Slipping around the rules, especially around the Allfather, is second nature to me.”

           

Natasha spoke, unmoving from her stance. “We can’t trust him, Fury.”

           

Bruce spoke up then, appearing to calm himself down. “We have one person in this room who calls him a friend. Can we trust him, Tony?”

           

Tony held up a finger. “What you can’t do is trust your judgments of him.” Loki sent him a flash of a smirk. They both recalled the circumstance they had been in when that sentiment had been uttered by Loki himself to his brother. “They will always be wrong.”

           

“So can we trust him or not?” The director questioned sternly.

           

It was the god who responded. “As I have told Stark, I am mischievous, not cruel.”

           

“Tell that to Phil,” Natasha replied with acid.

           

That brought about a sudden change in the room, and Loki softened, voice quiet in the tight air. “There are always casualties in war.”

           

The tense atmosphere went on, the anger almost palpable. Tony tried his best to diffuse the tension. “He is mischievous and he has daddy issues. Don’t we all?”

           

“Tony trusted him with keeping him alive after his arc reactor was gone.” Bruce spoke reason.

           

“Once a target, always a target.” Clint spoke with knives.

           

“I have seen the madness in his eyes. I won’t soon forget.” Natasha spoke with mistrust.

           

 “I am not one to forgive so easily. You killed one of my agents and you possessed another. You also blew up my research facility. It’ll take a lot to gain my trust.” Nick spoke with anger.

           

“I trust him,” Tony spoke loudly, breaking the chain and gaining all the heated attention in the room. “After all we went through, how could I not? He singlehandedly – well, technically not singlehandedly – but he allowed us to escape, rescued me, and sent me back here. Moreover, he knows the inner-workings of the Chitauri. He can guide us back there.”

           

Steve switched his gaze warily from the god back to Tony. “How do we know he won’t trick us then?”

           

“I will go first,” Tony replied with resolve.

           

Steve paused, searching Tony for answers. “You would go back to where you were imprisoned for more than a month, at the risk of getting captured again? At the hands of this so-called god who is our enemy?”

           

Tony met his stare challengingly. “He is my friend, not my enemy. I trust him as much as I can.”

           

Fury interjected into the intense exchange. “How much is that?”

           

“Can you trust me to not be a smart ass when I’m busy saving the world?” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Same thing with Loki. He’ll get the job done; you just have to work with the quarks.”

           

Loki, eyes fixed on the weapons pointed at his person, addressed his friend. “I appreciate the explanation and the defense, Stark. Still a crude way to put it, but accurate none the less. If it would reassure you,” he addressed the group as a whole, “I am willing to ask my brother to join us in the journey. If I happen to turn against you, he is more than capable of handling me.” Tony caught just a drop of bitterness in that last part.

           

“Or we can handle you right here, right now,” Clint offered, a deep anger welling up.

           

Loki looked down upon him. “I would really prefer you didn’t, _þreklauss samnaðr_.”

           

“ _þegja_ ,” Natasha growled at the god. Loki raised an eyebrow, appearing to be shocked that she could understand and speak Old Norse. Tony was just as shocked. Hell, he had been close to the god for how long now, and he still did not know what the hell he was saying. That was Agent Romanoff for you, always knowing what was needed even when she did not necessarily know what to be prepared for. She was like the best kind of boy scout. Minus the whole master assassin part.

           

“He can’t do magic here,” Tony was quick to remind.

           

“Are you certain?” Clint still did not move.

           

Tony gave a solid nod. “When Odin says there will be dire consequences, I’m willing to say yes.”

           

“You do not want to know what-” A deafening shot rang out in the long room, and Loki’s words were cut off by his own surprised cry of pain. The god stumbled back from the impact and collapsed to one knee in the ringing silence followed by the gunshot.

           

“Stand down!” Nick Fury roared, and all guns were lowered. Tony was up and out of his chair and beside the fallen god before he really knew he wanted to stand. Loki clutched his arm just below his left shoulder, cringing with the pain. He could see crimson seeping into the sleeve and panic rose in Tony’s chest.

“Agent Barton,” Nick Fury raged, “explain yourself.”

           

“I wasn’t certain,” Clint replied simply, no remorse in his tone.

           

“You did not – have to – _shoot_ me,” Loki forced out between sucking in pained breaths.

           

“You’re bleeding,” was all Tony could get out, his inner turmoil rising over the god being hurt yet again, sitting before him, and there was nothing he could do, nothing-

           

“Of course I’m bleeding,” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. “I just got _shot, ósnjallr vinr_.”

           

Wait, there _was_ something he could do. “Bruce, you’re the doctor here.” Tony stood and searched for the man, finding him sitting down once more, head in his hands. Woah, that was not a good stance for the guy to be in.

           

“Is that the green guy?” Dread entered Loki’s words.

           

“The other guy is green,” Bruce spoke up, gathering himself to sit straight. The whole room appeared to give a silent sigh of relief, seeing that he had mastered himself. “This guy is a doctor.”

           

Taking initiative, Tony hoisted the god onto his feet, addressing Bruce as he did so. “Get Loki down to the infirmary.” He stared at Bruce, in all seriousness. “Just make sure you don’t Hulk out. Loki,” he turned to his friend and stared deeply into those pained green eyes, “don’t give him a reason to Hulk out.”

           

“That is something I wish not to face again.” Loki conceded to following Bruce out of the room, all those who remained anxious to see the god leave their sight.

           

Tony rounded on Clint. “You put a bullet in my friend and the cherry wood door when I specifically told you not to. Do you know how much that costs?”

           

Fury also focused on his agent. “You could have cost us our only way to stop the Chitauri from using Stark technology, let alone the fact that you could have compromised us all.”

           

“The guy controlled me. Call it payback,” Clint holstered his gun, taking his seat back on the briefing table.

           

Tony felt himself get worked up. He motioned largely to the closed door that the god had just disappeared behind. “The guy threw me out of a window. You don’t see me shooting him.”

           

Natasha also sat back down. “You shouldn’t have done that, Clint. He may rethink helping us.”

           

“He could have attacked us,” Clint continued defending himself stubbornly.

           

Tony sighed, also returning to his seat. He stared across the table at Clint, meeting his challenging stare. “Dire consequences in Asgard mean a lifetime of cruel torture or death. You ever read the myths?”

           

Natasha was the one who spoke up. “I did, to study up on him before the battle, but they are just myths.” Well, since she knew the language, Tony was sure she had at least read the stories.

           

Tony turned to her. “You remember the one about Baldr?”

           

She nodded. “Loki devised a way to kill him, and it worked. He was caught and-” she suddenly paled. “But it couldn’t have happened.”

           

“What happened?” Steve truly sounded interested.

           

Natasha continued, the realization haunting her. “They killed his son and tied him to rocks with his dead son’s entrails.”

           

“And they dripped venom on his face,” Tony supplied.

           

Steve sat back in shock and disgust. “That’s… savage.”

           

Romanoff shook her head. “No wonder he’s so…”

           

“Psychotic?” Nick supplied dryly.

           

“He is a god,” Tony said lowly, “he lived through it.”

           

“All of those stories are true?” Now Natasha seemed to be siding with Tony.

           

He nodded. “For the most part, yes. And those aren’t the only tales. When we were imprisoned, he told me of the unwritten adventures he had with Thor where he saved them all, in his own way. He is a genius with words when he needs to be. So, if you are still skeptical about him, first of all, don’t shoot him.” He glared at Clint, who would not meet his gaze. “He’s been through enough in the past month. Second, trust me, if you can’t trust him. I know he won’t harm me.”

           

“How do you know?” Clint’s question was hard.

           

“He hasn’t yet, and he had plenty of opportunity.”

           

Fury did not look entirely convinced. “I still want to keep him confined. There is a glass cell here for Bruce. I will see to it that he is put in it.”

           

Yet another cage. Tony came to his friend’s defense, though he knew it would do nothing to dissuade the director. “He can’t do magic. What harm can he do?”

           

“It’ll ease my mind,” Fury replied sternly. “I won’t have a rogue god wandering around the Avenger’s headquarters, magic or no.”

           

And so as it was. After Bruce was done patching Loki up, he was carted off and locked away in that chamber where he had stayed in the helicarrier all that time ago. Only this time, it was in the basement of Stark Tower and not flying miles above the surface of the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony, you’re such an idiot. You’ve been Loki’d again!  
> Old Norse translation time!  
> þreklauss samnaðr- pithless host  
> þegja – silence (be silent)  
> ósnjallr vinr - foolish friend  
> Hey, Natasha Romanoff knows Latin, so why wouldn’t she know Old Norse as well?


	12. Submission and Interrogation

Night had fallen over New York City as Tony stared out at the glowing expanse of bustling streets from his bedroom window. His room was quiet, dark. He was alone, and he really wished he were not. A notion donned on him, and he wondered why he had not thought of it before.

           

“Jarvis, open the cell where Loki is and give him directions to my room.” There were no security cameras in Stark Tower, so no one would know save himself and Jarvis, who he could command to shut up on the matter. As long as Steve and Bruce were not up and about getting a late night glass of milk, Loki was free to wander to his room.

           

“As you wish, sir.” A minute passed, and Jarvis’s voice came back with a message. “Sir, Loki says he cannot be summoned like a lowly mortal-serving god-”

           

“Mute.”

           

After about fifteen minutes of waiting and staring out at the vast city, Tony heard his bedroom door open and shut behind him. He could not help the satisfied grin that spread across his mouth. “Apparently you _can_ be summoned.” He continued his city gazing. “And you _are_ kind of serving us.”

           

His shoulder was tugged none too gently around, then pushed back until he stumbled back and fell over the edge of his mattress and was firmly pressed against his quite minimalistic but overly comfortable bed. The god growled over him, sounding either lusty or angry, Tony was not entirely sure which. Loki winced as he applied pressure to his left arm, and this little detail was not missed.

           

“You appear hurt.” Relying on his training in mixed martial arts, among other disciplines, he managed to flip Loki onto his back, taking the previous hovering position. “Better?”

           

Loki would never admit it, but he did appear to be defeated. “You cannot mount a god.”

           

Unimpressed, Tony pressed a pointed finger at Loki’s chest. “My tower, my rules.”

           

“Yours? Is this not the Avenger’s headquarters?” Tony was rather impressed that Loki made no move to get out from underneath him.

           

“It still says ‘Stark’ on the outside. Besides, that is not the most important issue here.” In all seriousness, Tony was just a little bit furious that he had decided to crash the Avengers party without informing him first.

           

Loki grinned, eyes darkening with need. “No, it is not.” A chilled palm pressed onto his stomach, finding its way under his shirt and slowly working its way up towards Tony’s chest, chilly fingers teasing.

           

Tony gulped in a moan. “You weren’t supposed to show up in the middle of an Avengers meeting. What happened to laying low?”

           

The god hummed deeply, cocking his head to the side. “You must have missed me.” He ended by placing a lingering kiss on Tony’s neck, as he was quite prone to do.

           

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Damn it, trying to get a straight answer out of this guy was hard.

           

Loki pulled him down close enough for his icy breath to wash over Tony’s skin. He whispered lowly, “You are fucking the God of Mischief. Do you really expect me to go along with all of the plans?”

           

“That one, yes.” He was finding it difficult to stay mad at the god, but damn it he tried.

           

“Are you disappointed in me?” The way Loki smirked, Tony knew that the god could see the breaking of his resolve.

           

“I thought you had better self-preservation,” he replied weakly.

           

Loki clutched him close with his good arm. “Oh, let me have a little fun.”

           

Tony pressed him back onto the mattress, staring incredulously down at him. “You got shot, Loki. That doesn’t sound fun to me.”

           

He shrugged, but winced at the motion. “My kind of fun has consequences.”

           

Tony brought the god under his scrutinizing gaze. He knew it was not as petrifying as the director’s, but damn it he tried. “Do you really want to help us, or are you just playing with us?” It was always best to ask these things upfront when you were fucking and perhaps getting fucked over by a god.

           

With that sobering question, the smirk that had found its way over Loki’s face dropped. “It may be hard for everyone to imagine, but I do care about the nine realms. The Chitauri with your technology would be a force that I care not to fight.”

           

Tony nodded, accepting that answer. The god, as far as he knew, had no reason to lie to him. “It’ll be tough getting back there.”

           

Loki stared deeply into those brown eyes, searching. “Do you mean it will be hard on the Avengers, or on you?”

           

“Both,” Tony replied in a whisper. No matter how hard he tried to stay strong in front of his comrades, he still feared the place. If they had the means to take over and eject him from his own suit, then they had all the power over him. The mere thought of not being in complete control terrified him. In searching through the code for the portal, he had not had time to go over the security measures of the suit and make proper adjustments to prevent them hacking into Jarvis again.

           

With that, Loki pulled him down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Tony poured all of his desire for the god, pent up from the week away from him, into that one gesture. Loki pulled away prematurely. “I’ll be there with you,” he whispered reassuringly.

           

“The last time you helped me, you blew up my arc reactor,” Tony was quick to remind, though he meant it as a tease, lips so close to the god’s

           

“That was a dire circumstance,” Loki countered.

           

“I am using my spare and I haven’t had the time to make another. You’d better not blow this one up.”

           

“I don’t want to break your heart again,” Loki teased, tracing fingers over the glowing metal device under his loose shirt.

           

Tony grinned at the sentiment. “The Man of Iron does not break.” He dove down and bit and sucked at the tender skin behind Loki’s ear, simultaneously grinding his hips down over the god’s.

           

Loki’s fist balled in his shirt, amusement filling his breathy words. “You did miss me.”

           

“More than you know,” was the soft reply. Tony continued grinding. Loki lifted his shirt up and over his head, and they were both washed in glowing blue light from the reactor. Finally, Loki looked as cold as his skin felt.

           

The god cracked a grin in the blue glow. “ _J_ _árn Halr, ykkarr lj_ _ómi v_ _ándr_.”

           

Oh, so he wanted to play _that_ game again. Well, Tony was now in _his_ element. “Jarvis,” he spoke to his computer, “translate.”

           

“Iron Man, your radiance is wicked,” the computer replied readily. Loki’s eyebrows shot up, appearing impressed, and the grin was back with a vengeance.

           

“Now you can’t insult me while we fuck,” Tony chided. “Wicked radiance?”

           

Loki pulled Tony close, grinding his hips upward, and whispered in his ear, “They are not insults. _Ek Undr ykkarr_ _íhugi eða elska ykkarr_ _ǫnd_ _óttr taufr_.”

           

Tony waited for Jarvis to translate and was not long in waiting. “I marvel your resentment and am fond of your fiery charms.”

           

“Fiery, huh?” Tony’s hands wandered over the god’s body as he continued grinding his hips down. “What else?”

           

Loki moaned, arcing into the motion. “ _Ek gr_ _áðr ykkarr taka_.”

           

“I hunger your touch.”

           

Tony could not help the snarky grin that pulled at his lips. “And I’ve been missing this all along? What else have you said to me?”

           

“Keep me around long enough and your computer will let you know, _minn hestr_.”

           

“My stallion,” Jarvis supplied.

           

Tony hummed in approval. “I like that one.”

           

“ _Afkl_ _æða ek, v_ _ándr halr,_ ” Loki growled hungrily.

           

“Undress me, wicked man.”

           

Tony smirked. “Verily, my prince. Oh, and Jarv, stop translating. It sounds like you are trying to seduce me.”

           

“Apologies, sir, though it was you who asked for the translations-”

           

“Mute.”

           

Bringing the moment back on him, Loki quipped, “Your Midgardian clothing is so easy to remove.”  He tossed the shirt he had been clutching off the edge of the bed.

           

Tony had quickly gone to work on the god’s tight lacing, hissing out swears as he tried to unknot it. “Your costume designers should take a hint,” he complained between his curses. Finally, with a little bit of aid, he removed the layers of clothing that marred the god’s splendid torso. Tony came to the tight bandage that wrapped his injured arm and felt the need to comment. “No magic means no healing, huh?”

           

Cold fingers trailed up his chest, over his shoulder, down his arm, and then back up. Tony relished in the touch as Loki replied softly, in his soothing voice. “I heal faster than you, magic or no. It is part of the power of the golden apples.”

           

Tony had moved on to the lacing at his crotch. “They obviously don’t make your designers smart enough to put in zippers.”

           

Deft fingers quickly unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly. Loki’s voice rumbled deep in his chest, his touch fleeting and teasing. “And where would the fun go?”

           

“The fun would be the faster sex.” He was having a hard time keeping his head straight as he fumbled faster with the lacing that did not seem to be budging. It became a frenzied attempt when Loki easily pulled his jeans down past his ass, that hand still barely touching his ultra-sensitive flesh, the other too injured to be of any use to the god. Every brush felt like a spark. In a triumphant moment, Tony loosened the lace just enough to squeeze those infernal pants down, but his victory over cloth came to an abrupt end as he was met with a new challenge: fucking boots.

           

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He glanced up to see Loki smirking down the length of his body as Tony kneeled before him. Tony eyed the god’s stiff sex hungrily and for a moment, he contemplated forgoing sex and just rutting himself up against the god. He shoved the thought away, wanting to do it the fucking proper way, by fucking the fucking god.

           

“I’m waiting, Stark.” That cocky voice had to go, and Tony knew exactly how to make it, but damn it, those boots had to come off before any more fun could be had. The buckles went first, and with a mighty heave, each one came off and was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. The pants were quick to follow. With the god finally properly undressed, Tony stood and went to his bedside table and rifled around in the drawer for a moment, finding exactly what he needed: a condom and lube. Bless himself for always keeping a well-rounded supply. He returned to stand before the god, stepping out of his pants and kicking them to the side, snapping open the bottle of lube. This all was lustily observed by Loki.

           

With fingers slick, Tony climbed back over the god and hovered above him. This earned him an amused smirk. “You really wish to mount me?” A chilly finger was traced around the skin surrounding his arc reactor. “Few have achieved such a feat.”

           

His lubed fingers trailed slowly down that glorious abdomen. “You are already on your back. This battle is won.” And Loki did not seem to be protesting.

           

Long fingers dug through Tony’s hair by the amused god. “Oh, bold now are we?”

           

Tony smirked. “Am I ever not?” With that, he pressed his fingers into him, easily shutting the snarky god up with a long, low moan. It did not take long for him to be stretched out, both parties breathing hard in anticipation.

           

The man sat back on Loki’s lap and tore off the top of the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slowly rolled it over his eager prick under the curious and amused gaze of Loki.

           

“You are covering yourself?” Loki snickered in amusement. “How modest,”

           

Tony rolled his eyes. Fucking Asgardians. “Who knows what kind of voo doo you do up in god land to replace condoms; I know you’ve gotten pregnant before.”

           

Loki laughed outright, sounding overly loud in the dark room. “You do not know how impossible it would be for you to get me with child. I would have to take the form of a woman.”

           

Slightly thrown off by the god’s sudden mirth, Tony had to clarify. “You can do that?”

           

“I have before.” Loki stared at Tony, amusement still glinting in the back of his eyes, but his expression was unreadable. “Would you want me to?”

           

Tony thought on this for a moment, but came to a definite decision. “No. I prefer you as Loki, not Lola.”

           

“Good,” the god growled, fingers digging deeply into Tony’s thigh. “I much prefer this form.”

           

“I’m still wearing it,” Tony replied, finished with the application and lubing of his very much stiff sex. He leaned over Loki, spreading the god’s legs and taking position over him.

           

“It makes no matter to me,” he replied breathily. Tony began covering the glorious pale chest with hot kisses, cool skin now devoid of any traces of his ordeal, nipping lightly at perked nipples as Loki rippled beneath him. The god wrapped his legs about Tony’s waist, submitting completely to his ministrations. He pulled Tony up to look into his radiantly green, desiring eyes. “Take me, Tony,” he breathed, and the man readily complied. He slowly entered the god, a cold hand clenching the hair behind his neck tightly. Tony breathed out a sigh as Loki sucked in a heady breath.

           

“Take me,” Loki repeated, voice heavy with desire. Needing no more encouragement, Tony began slowly moving in and out, shallowly at first, before slowly moving deeper and deeper. The god cried out and clutched Tony tighter as his sweet spot was found, further encouraging a deeper, stronger thrust, drawing moans from his throat at every move. Tony could not help but clutch his companion closer as fingernails scraped down his back, thrusting in a rapid frenzy. He latched his mouth onto the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder, finally marking the god as his own, biting and sucking the tender flesh.

           

“Go faster, Tony,” Loki moaned, writhing in ecstasy below Tony, moving and meeting his eager motions. “Faster-” He complied readily, ringing out strangled gasps from the god’s lungs. “ _Fremr_ -” Tony thrust harder into the god, panting with exertion and pleasure in equal measure. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back. The cool hand was removed from its scraping across his back to work at Loki’s own neglected prick. Tony’s own hand covered the swiftly pumping hand of the god, slowing and speeding up the motion in time with his thrusts. Soon, the god was lost in pleasure, becoming a panting mess. He was no longer the vision of a dignified god, but he was no less magnificent, expression twisted in relish of the motion, the friction, the sex.

           

They went on, in a tangle of limbs, of thrusting and rolling as one, flesh slapping on damp, sweaty flesh. Teeth and tongues were skirted over what available flesh was before them, leaving marks of their passion behind. Chests heaved with heavy breaths, sliding against one another and pulling away in turn with the steady thrusts, slowing and then speeding up as Tony tired and then regained his strength, needing a release after what felt like such a long time away from his companion in the darkness. Strangled friendship by day, impassioned secret lover by night. The idea both terrified him and made him all the lustier.

           

None too soon and overcome with the pure primal desire, Loki came with a gasp and a full body shudder, spilling himself onto both of their chests. He fell back limply as Tony came to his own finish, riding out his orgasm with slowing motions. He collapsed onto the god with a most satisfied sigh, getting gathered close by him. They lay there in an exhausted embrace, muscles shaking from such exertion, breaths coming hard and shaking. As they slowly calmed, Loki placed delicate kisses along Tony’s neck.

           

Reaching his ear, the god hummed contently to Tony. “Good,” he sighed. “That was good.”

           

Tony snuck a kiss on Loki’s jaw. “You don’t always have to be the stallion.”

           

Loki chuckled lowly. “Just don’t tell. I must keep up my reputation.”

           

“Sealed lips, trust me.” He illustrated by covering the god’s mouth with his own. They lay there, covering one another in delicate kisses and soft caresses, slowly working their way underneath the covers, Tony dealing with the used condom on the way.

           

Tony draped himself lazily over the god, reveling in having him at his fingertips once again. He was careful to not jostle the god’s injured arm, however, which put a bit of a twist on their usual embrace. It was no less welcoming, however. Trailing his fingers over the god’s chest and down to his hip and back up again, Tony was brought back to reality. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to your cell? Not that I want you to,” he added quickly, pulling the god closer.

           

“I have no desire to be locked up. Especially without you,” Loki clutched at Tony with his good arm, tracing a finger lazily over his back.

           

“Yeah, me neither.”

           

“I will return to it just before daybreak,” he reassured the man.

           

“Deal.” They lay in silence, lazily placing kisses wherever they could reach and teasing hands wandering. Slowly, the motions stopped, the slow caressing turning into a soft embrace.

           

Loki’s gentle, soothing voice pierced the bliss. “Tony?” The man hummed sleepily. “Sleep well.”

           

“Goodnight, Loki.” Tony clutched him closer, drifting slowly into a deep sleep.

 

\---

           

Tony slept with no nightmares that night, for the first time since he had arrived back in Stark Tower. He was rudely awoken from his pleasant Loki and orgasm-induced sleep by his computer’s insistent voice, the broad window uncovering its digital curtain and letting in the harsh mid-morning sun. It took a moment for him to wrap his mind around just where he was, and his heart fell when he found himself in a bed destitute of his partner.

           

“Sir, Mr. Fury is requesting your presence in the briefing room,” Jarvis’s mechanical voice broke through Tony’s groggy consciousness.

           

He groaned, sweeping a hand down his face. “What does he want?”

           

“He says you are late, sir.”

           

Tony sat up, irritated. “Late for what?”

           

“The meeting.”

           

He sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much.” He swept his legs out of the bed and noticed his clothing still strewn about the floor, though it was empty of the garments of his lover, if he could even call Loki that. Sure, they made fantastic love, but loving? Tony was not entirely sure he himself was capable of such nicety. Even if he was, he would never admit it. To be in love was just was not Tony Stark. He hardly thought the god was any different.

           

Facing the Avengers with Loki in presence did give him a jolt of apprehension. He feared if he spent too much time in the company of either, the nature of his relationship to the god would be found out. It would take all of his available ability of sneakiness and subtlety to pull off this incognito affair.

           

Damn. He was doomed.

           

Still feeling rather sticky from the romp the night before, Tony took a quick shower. He then made a stop in the kitchen on his way to the briefing room, grabbing a mug and a carafe brimming with steaming good strong coffee.

           

Everyone was in their designated spot around the long rectangular table, Fury at the far end, and all others spread in the others, waiting for his arrival.

           

“Thank you for joining us,” Nick said sternly, not sounding at all thankful for his presence.

           

“Hey, my tower. I can do what I want.” Tony sat heavily in his own chair, pouring himself a full mug of steaming coffee. He really hoped his morning after glow did not give him away.

           

Fury glared at him from the head of the table. “This is the Avengers headquarters.”

           

He took a gulp of scorching coffee. “It still says Stark on the top. Coffee anyone?” He offered the still rather full coffee pot. Bruce slid his own pitifully empty mug across the table, which Tony quickly filled, and slid it back. “Anyone else? No? Anything stronger?”

           

“Tony, we have important matters to discuss.” The director was not at all amused. All of the other Avengers remained in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

           

Tony rolled his eyes and took another gulp of coffee. “Just trying to be a good host. What’s first to discuss?”

           

Agent Romanoff was the one who answered. “You.”

           

Well, that was interesting. Probably why everyone else looked slightly uncomfortable. “Oh. I love being discussed. What about?”

           

“You were imprisoned for a month with a psychotic god,” Bruce said over his own mug.

           

“And I’m still alive. Hallelujah, brother. Next?”

           

Steve leaned forward, ever the man on top of it all. “Tony, we need to know that you are mentally sound.”

           

Okay, now he had to get defensive. “I’m always sound.”

           

Clint squinted at him, arms crossed. “Sometimes I wonder. Friends with Loki?”

           

Tony sighed. “Do we really have to do this again? My personal life is already way too public. I don’t need it interfering here too. We have an understanding, end of story.” He sat back, staring at each of them defiantly, mug close at hand.

           

Nick Fury leaned forward insistently. “We need to know that you are not being controlled.”

           

That earned them all a roll of Tony’s eyes. “Loki already tried that and it didn’t work.” He tapped his arc reactor, “This gets in the way. But I guess I’ll humor you. How do you propose to make sure that it is really the one and only genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist who is sitting here?”

           

Clint was the one who responded. “We need to ask you a series of questions that only the real Tony Stark would know.”

           

“Alright? Well, I guess you would know how that works, Robin Hood.” He topped off his mug of coffee. “As it turns out, I have that programmed into Jarvis for just such an occasion. Jarv, begin Security Check 112.” This was met with a skeptical look from the Director, to which Tony replied with a challenging glare.

           

“Would you care for the full body scan as well, sir?” The computer butler offered.

           

“Not necessary. Shoot me the first question.”

           

“The day of your very first real date, and who it was with,” Jarvis said.

           

“June 21, Stacy.”

           

“Correct.” Tony shot a glance at Clint, who rolled his eyes. “Your favorite flavor of jam.”

           

“It changes monthly,” Tony responded. “Currently blueberry. No wait, I skipped a month. It’s boysenberry now.”

           

Fury stared blankly at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

           

“Correct.” Tony held up his hand for the director to wait as Jarvis asked yet another question. “The element you created for your arc reactor and how you re-discovered it.”

           

“Vibranium, and my father put the structure for it in the model.”

           

“Correct.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at the stony-faced director. “The first model of the Iron Man suit that used gold-titanium alloy and why it was necessary to use that metal.”

           

“Mark III, and to deal with high altitude ice.”

           

“Correct. The date you lost your virginity, and the woman you lost it to.”

           

Tony coughed and cleared his throat. “Whoops, that’s embarrassing. December 11, Cherrie.”

           

“Correct.”

           

He turned his attention to both Clint and Fury. “Are you satisfied yet?”

           

“Sufficiently,” Nick deadpanned.

           

“End program, Jarv. Well, good. The questions start getting really embarrassing. Part of the plan, you know.”

           

Natasha figured it out instantly. “Embarrass the impersonator enough so he’ll go away?”

           

Tony shrugged. “Essentially. You should also notice my eyes aren’t glowing all blue and spooky. No need for an exorcism here. So, are we done with agenda item number one?”

           

The Avengers shifted nervously, and Bruce spoke up, quiet and careful. “We know from your file that you experienced some pretty severe PTSD after you returned from Afghanistan. Has that returned at all?”

           

Speaking around the mug, not meeting the questioning gaze from his comrades, Tony muttered, “I’m managing.” They really did not need to know exactly _how_ he was managing, or who he was managing it with.

           

Steve leaned forward intently. “We need to know that you are alright before you can come back.”

           

“Just don’t put a bag over my head and I’ll be just fine.” That raised a few eyebrows. “If you need more reassurance, in the next system upgrade to Jarvis and my suit, I’ll add in a monitor for my emotional state. If I get too wigged, Jarv will tell you and you can use one of the Hulk tranquilizers on me.” Clint raised an eyebrow at his exaggeration.

           

Natasha nodded. “Works for me. Director?”

           

He seemed to contemplate this for a long moment, dark eye staring a hole in Tony, trying to see beyond that smug exterior. He gave up eventually and conceded. “It’ll do, Stark. Now, the next order of business. Where the hell are we going and how the hell are we getting there?”

           

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but the answer was stolen from him.

           

“Loki,” Steve supplied.

           

“And Loki again,” Bruce added.

           

Well, that certainly brightened Tony’s morning of interrogation. He tried to stay neutral and mostly failed, “Looks like we need to take a trip to the cellar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it wrong that I want to call Loki the Stallion Who Mounts the World? Obscure Game of Thrones reference.  
> Old Norse translation: Fremr – more.  
> What do you know, only one because Jarvis did the work for me!


	13. The Gilded Cage and the Trapped God

The Avengers took the elevator down and came upon the vast room that contained the circular glass cell in the center. Upon their entering, Loki stood from where he had sat on the bench in the glass chamber, standing straight and princely, despite having been shot and rather fucked the previous day.

           

“To what do I owe this great pleasure?” Loki addressed the group as a whole, just slightly perturbed.

           

Nick Fury addressed the caged god. “Loki, you expressed interest in aiding our expedition to retrieve the technology left behind by Stark.”

           

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and he shot me,” he pointed an accusing finger to Clint. “Still hurts, too.”

           

“It’d better,” he growled back.

           

Natasha stepped forward, glaring daggers at them both. “The past is the past. Move on.”

           

Taking initiative, though also trying to appear neutral to the situation, Tony spoke to his imprisoned friend. “Loki, could you transport all or some of us to the Chitauri and back?”

           

Softening as Tony spoke to him, Loki addressed only him. “I may need to strike a new deal with the Allfather, but I can do it if I am at full liberty with my power.”

           

“Why are you doing this for us?” Bruce sounded genuinely curious.

           

Loki grinned in his superior way. “We gods do crazy things. Perhaps I am bored with being imprisoned all the time.” He spread his arms out, making a suggestive gesture to the glass walls surrounding him.

           

The stern voice of the director shot through the air. “No matter what Stark says, I still don’t trust you being outside that cage.”

           

Tony saw Loki’s transformation into the Sly God in an instant. “So, when I need to visit Asgard, you would prefer me to appear back inside this infernal prison when I return?” Many eyes widened at that question.

           

Tony took a step forward in his friend’s defense. “I think what he is trying to say is that the cell doesn’t contain him. Besides, he can’t do anything to harm us.”

           

“He can access our information,” Natasha pointed out.

           

“Jarvis,” Tony addressed his computer butler, “if Loki tries to access any of your information, even the internet, initiate Security Protocol Three.”

           

“Yes, sir.”

           

Steve looked at Tony with just a bit of suspicion. “What is Security Protocol Three?”

           

Tony smiled, glad that someone had asked. He was always looking for an excuse to show off. “Complete system lockdown. Only I can undo it.”

           

“How do we know when it is activated?” Natasha always knew just what questions to ask. Tony admired that. But then again, she was a professional interrogator.

           

“Jarv, demonstrate Security Protocol Three.”

           

“Security Protocol Three demonstration activated.” The bright white lights shut off, red flashing lights taking their place. This in itself made the rest of the Avengers jump. Tony even saw Loki flinch. A deep siren ran through the air, vibrating on the walls with its intensity. Jarvis’s voice was calm, but insistent. “Intruder, intruder, intruder-”

           

“Alright, cut it, Jarv,” Tony called over the commotion. The normal lights immediately sprang to life, the sirens cutting out, leaving the room overly bright and ringing in silence. “It’s obvious, Spiderwoman. Well, Furious? Does that satisfy you? No, wait,” he stopped himself dramatically, “of course not. Nothing satisfies you.”

           

Not approving of his nickname, Fury stared down at Tony. “He stays in the glass box.”

           

Tony turned to face Loki, shrugging. “I tried, sorry.”

           

Loki returned the gesture. “At least I can see out of this box. Though,” he added, “if I am to stay here for an extended period, I would request some kind of bedding. Even gods need to rest sometimes and this bench is a poor excuse for a sleeping arrangement.” Tony could have laughed at that. No way would he use it. Then again, it would be quite suspicious if the god appeared to not be sleeping in his cell.

           

“Tony,” Steve spoke up, ever the gentleman, “if you show me where a spare mattress is, I can carry it in.”

           

“If it is permissible,” Tony mocked a bow at the director, before returning his attention back to the super soldier, “there is a fully fitted spare bedroom right next to yours. You can take the one from there. Oh, and make sure you get all of the bedding. We don’t want a groggy god with a bad back on our hands.”

           

“I appreciate your generosity,” Loki nodded his head, sounding quite sincere.

           

The Avengers remained, discussing in-depth the means of travel, the timeframe, and other such details of their transport with Loki. He would return to Asgard for three days with a request to allow him to venture to the lair of the Chitauri for a short time, being allowed full access to his power while there. If Odin was not willing to accept the terms, Loki had the official order from the Director of the Avengers, protectors of the Earth, for his full-powered aid.

           

Nick Fury addressed the particular issue of using magic with all seriousness. “Just know that we will have the green guy there.”

           

“The… other guy does not like you,” Bruce reminded Loki, making it sound like a safety reminder to a comrade rather than a threat to an enemy, as Fury had done.

           

“I am well aware,” Loki nodded.

           

The agents and the director left the tower to prepare their own resources for the three days Loki was to be gone. Tony retreated to the depths of his lab to work on the computer update. He worked through the day and late into the night, struggling with the lack of information on Chitauri technology. He was in the middle of a long equation when he heard a quiet tap on the glass door of his lab. He waved the sound away, not really caring who it was. The problem at hand was far too consuming of his energy, and he really did not have the time to-

           

“Stark,” a cool, smooth voice called through the glass. Tony jolted away from his screens and looked to see the God of Mischief standing at his door, a sly smirk on his face.

           

“Jarvis,” Tony said slowly, still trying to comprehend the god’s presence. “Allow Loki access.” The door slid open and Loki entered, looking around the somewhat cluttered lab with curiosity. Not standing from his chair behind the desk, Tony swept the screens to the side with a wave of his hand. “You’re supposed to be in that nice little box. Steve even brought you a bed.” It was useless asking how he actually got out of the cage.

           

“Yes, he did,” Loki nodded, slowly sauntering his way over to Tony’s desk. “That doesn’t mean I want to use it.”

           

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Tony reminded him, though he had already seen through the god’s plan. After all, it had been his plan as well. Part of the incognito affair maneuvering.

           

Loki slowly walked around the desk, hand brushing over Tony’s shoulder and wrapping around him intimately. Those lips were just beside his ear when he spoke next. “Wouldn’t it be suspicious if I didn’t ask for a sleeping arrangement? Your comrades might start to suspect that I am not spending the night inside that glass cage.”

           

“You speak truth, oh mischievous one.”

           

Those chilled lips moved down his neck, brushing just slightly and sending tiny chills down Tony’s spine. “What are you working on so late at night?”

           

With a quick swipe of his hand, the screens were back in front of him. “Checking out how the Chitauri hacked my system. They got inside Jarvis and ejected me from the suit. I’d really rather prevent that from happening, but I can’t seem to figure out how they did it. From the looks of them, they have bioengineering down to a, well, I wouldn’t say art. More like a deranged fashion statement.”

           

Loki straightened up, though kept his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He stared at the screen for a good long moment. “Perhaps I can help.”

           

“Careful you don’t touch the screens. I wouldn’t want that stupid alarm going off.” He scooted his chair back slightly, glancing about. “There should be another chair here somewhere.” He pulled away from Loki’s embrace and stood, digging through a pile of old projects to find a dirtied expensive modern-style chair, which he pushed over to his station. He found Loki perched royally atop his own swivel chair.

           

Tony stared at Loki challengingly. “My chair. Up,” he commanded. Loki shrugged and stood, taking the offered seat from Tony and looking quite the prince in the stained white leather chair.

           

“Explain the readings you got,” Loki nodded towards the glowing screens, charts and numbers abound on them. “The process may be similar to how I controlled your gun-friendly companion.”

           

Tony took his seat and sifted through the pages of numbers and charts. “I really don’t have that many readings. All I know is that when I passed through the portal, my suit went dark. That’s happened before, but the system has always been able to recover. I tried using the emergency systems, but that had been blocked too.”

           

Loki contemplated for a moment. “How did your arrow man escape my control?”

           

That brought a grin of satisfaction to Tony’s mouth. “A swift blow to the head. Probably multiple, knowing Agent Romanoff.”

           

“So, program that into the emergency protocol,” Loki supplied.

           

“What, like a defibrillator shock to my suit?” The idea had merit.

           

“A shock may work, or its equivalent to the power of the arc reactor.”

           

“A blast.” Tony grinned at the idea. “I have to blow my own system up. Sounds fun.”

           

A sly hand snaked over and found its way to Tony’s thigh, slowly moving its way in and up. “Was there anything else you needed to work on?” The voice was smoldering with lust.

           

Tony sighed. “Yeah, actually. I promised the director I would put a sensor on the suit to alarm them if I was getting a panic attack.” He placed a stilling hand on the wandering touch of the god.

           

Loki’s voice lost all lust and turned quiet. “You are afraid you will be overcome by fear if you return?”

           

He did not want to admit it but, “It isn’t an impossibility. Especially if I get booted out of my suit again.”

           

The god’s gaze softened with compassion. Tony had rarely seen this side of him, but it certainly was not unwelcome. “I told you before; I will be there to protect you.”

           

That earned the god a quietly sad grin. “In all my time of knowing you, I’ve learned to not trust what I expect.”

           

Loki’s face fell. “You doubt my resolve?”

           

“No,” Tony was quick to say, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder, but not meeting his eyes. “I doubt my ability to rely on anyone.”

           

“Then we are the same.” They stared deeply into one another’s gaze, a flash of hunger running through both of them.

           

Tony cleared his throat and pulled away, glancing back to the computer screens. “Jarvis, calculate how much force it would take to manually reboot your system in the suit.” Loki pulled away with a knowing chuckle. Tony was a man supposedly hard at work, but distractions were ever so much fun.

           

“Calculating, sir,” the computer voice replied. Soon, a new screen appeared with a list of numbers scrolling by. Tony stared at the results, scrolling through them with his face set in concentration and growing concern.

           

“How can I do that without destroying the arc reactor?”

           

Loki leaned forward, appearing to understand the numbers. “How about streamlining the surge into the program itself?”

           

Tony lit up, moving figures around excitedly with quick movements of his fingertips. “A super powered reboot.” He turned to Loki, who gave him a satisfied grin. “You used up all the energy from my last reactor. You know how much it can handle.”

           

He nodded. “It was an overwhelming amount. Far more than you could ever do to it.”

           

Tony shook his head in awe at the god. “I’m still amazed that you managed to use all of its energy.”

           

Loki grinned slyly. “You should never underestimate me.”

           

Tony pointed to a rather large bar on a graph, representing the energy that his arc reactor had available. “Is that how much power you have?”

           

“It is a different sort of power, and it comes at a cost, as you know.” Loki nodded. “But in comparison with your created strength, it is similar in potency.”

           

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Better not get on your bad side, then.”

           

A dark grin found its way across Loki’s face. “You’ve already been on my bad side.”

           

“Oh, right.”

           

Loki went on, “My power is not used for strength, like yours or my brother’s. I use mine for manipulation and illusions to deceive. A major mistake that others make of me, to their demise or my own, is that my power is simply raw magic. It is not, I assure you. I manipulate, but I do not destroy. It was only with the aid of the staff that I could produce destruction.”

           

Tony stared at him, surprised to be getting this speech now. “I feel like you should be telling this to the Avengers, not just me.”

           

“They will not trust my words,” Loki shook his head, but focused right back on Tony. “But they trust yours.”

           

“Mostly,” Tony shrugged.

           

“I can see it in their eyes when you speak.”

           

That brought a stupid grin to Tony. “You shouldn’t tell me that. My ego is too big as it is.”

           

Loki leaned closer. “I suspect that taking a god to bed has done nothing but help it grow.”

           

Tony turned to face the god, his stupid grin growing. “It is an honor to have your ass, your godliness.”

           

That earned him a smirk. “It brings me great pleasure to have you.” That hand was wandering up his thigh again, and Tony could feel a little something stirring in his loins.

           

“Good,” he gulped, “it’s settled then.”

           

Those lips were up beside his ear again; cool breath washing lustily over him. “So I will have you this night, for I will not return for three days.”

           

“My work-” Tony knew it was useless to protest.

           

“Three days, Stark. You are more than capable of finishing by then.” It really did not take much to convince him to leave his lab for the night.

           

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tony raised his hands and collapsed the screens, the lack of their glow leaving the pair in shadow. “Goodnight, Jarv.”

           

“Sleep well, sir.”

           

Loki had pulled Tony up from his chair, wandering hands enticing him to hurry out of the lab. “That may be unlikely,” Tony said to his computer. “Just a hunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, Loki. Get your hand out of his pants. He is trying to compute things.  
> Since there is no Old Norse to translate in this chapter, I’ll have you go look up the song “My Freedom” by Two Steps from Hell. It is lovely and I listened to it quite often when I was typing this monster up.


	14. Returning to Darkness, a Blue Glow in the Shadow

The three days passed in a flurry of calculating, constructing, and a feat of engineering that even Tony was proud of. He spent those days locked away in his lab, visited only briefly by Bruce and Steve on occasion, who would offer their assistance. Mostly, their assistance became bringing Tony food and coffee, as Pepper appeared to have quit that particular part of her job. Tony would go to his empty bed exhausted and always in want of Loki, but the god never appeared, as was the plan. An idiotic plan, he would think every time he woke, expecting Loki to be beside him and finding himself still alone.

           

When he next saw the god, after those three long days, the god made a subtle appearance in the grand living room at the top of the tower. Tony, Bruce and Steve were partaking in a pre-battle breakfast around the bar, consisting of oatmeal for the super soldier, some toast for the gamma radiation man, and a nice glass of scotch and a granola bar for the playboy genius. If asked, Tony would have said that was what he always had for breakfast. No one had asked. In truth, he really just needed to calm his nerves for the ordeal ahead.

           

Steve and Bruce appeared to see the shining, armored vision just out of the corner of their eye, since they immediately sprung to their feet, prepared for the god to unleash his fury upon them. Tony lazily looked between the two parties, two in their regular Avengers outfits, and Loki in his long, lavish leather coat that hung so gorgeously over his strong shoulders, golden helmet glinting in the early morning sun. His green cape hung heavy behind him over the many layers of armor.

           

Loki smirked at the reaction, spreading his palms in a peaceful gesture. “You really need to start trusting me, Rogers and Banner.” Tony fought the urge to simply walk over and snog the fuck out of him as he stood there in his leather straps and metal fastenings. “I am your ally in this endeavor.”

           

Instead of making a royal fool of himself, Tony managed a pleasant, “Good morning, Loki. Welcome back to the tower. Please,” he shot a sharp glance at the other two, still standing unsure, “make yourself comfortable. The other Avengers should be here soon.”

           

Pressing a palm to his chest and nodding his head in thanks, the smirking god sat grandly on one of the lavish low couches in the center of the room, removing his helmet as he did so. As if on cue, the helicopter carrying the remainder of the Avengers swept overhead, the agents and the director soon walking through the glass doors of the balcony. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the fully-armored Loki sitting in the living room like a common guest.

           

“Relax,” Tony waved their worries away, though Clint did not take his hand off of the stashed bow at his side. “You guys want breakfast?”

           

The director sent him a look angry enough to shut him up for the time being. “Since when has he been here?”

           

“I just recently arrived, Director,” Loki supplied calmly. “I figured I would save you a trip down to the dungeon by coming here instead.”

           

Nick shook his head and Agent Romanoff stepped in, arms crossed and looking particularly ready for a heavy mission. “Did you get clearance to take us?”

           

Tony saw a flash of annoyance flicker behind Loki’s eyes. “My father was reluctant, to make a long story quite short. It took quite a bit of negotiation, but after insisting that all of the nine realms were at stake, he made an exception, just this once.” He met Fury’s suspicious glare head on. “I am still not allowed my power while on Midgard, so your realm is safe from my, what did you call it? Oh, my ‘psychotic, manic, mass-murdering, and deranged’ godliness.” He appeared to ignore Tony’s look of warning. “Regardless of what you may think of me, I am here to help. Trust me as you will, because without me you cannot begin to hope of ever reaching the Chitauri.”

           

“A valid point,” Natasha conceded, approaching the god with daring steps. She offered him an outstretched hand. Eying it briefly, Loki took it and they shared a solid, single shake. “It is good to have you on our side this time.”

           

“If you really want him to warm up to you,” Tony interjected, “say that we are honored and humbled to be receiving the aid of the most powerful of deities.”

           

Loki shook his head, rolling his eyes at his friend. “I am flattered, Stark.”

           

Director Fury spoke up then. “Get us there and back in one piece and I might consider not locking you up next time. That’s about as much trust as I can give you.”

           

Loki turned a meaningful glance at Fury. “If you can promise me that, then you have little to fear from me.”

           

“It’s that little bit of fear that makes me cautious,” Nick replied sternly.

           

“As you should be. I am still a god of Asgard, after all.”

           

Steve, who had taken his seat back at the bar, addressed the gathered Avengers and Loki. “Since we are all here, I would like us to go over the plan once more before we depart. Director?”

           

“Perhaps we should let Loki explain his plan first,” Fury suggested rather reluctantly.

           

Brightening at the invitation, Loki readily supplied it. “Very well. It is more efficient for me to transport you if we all go at once. Mr. Fury, I am of the opinion that you alone will be left behind.”

           

“That’s why they call me the Director.” His lack of an eye was also a concern of his, but there was no way he would let the Norse god know of that. Tony gave him a knowing look.

           

“Indeed,” Loki continued. “Once we are all there, I will retrieve Thor from Asgard. After that, the plan is up to you, Director.” Tony could sense Loki kissing up to Fury, trying to gain his trust and also putting himself below the director in the hierarchy of order. It was a wise move, and appeared to work as Fury nodded in appreciation.

           

“You will remain together as a unit and search every room for Stark’s machines. If and when you come across Chitauri soldiers, you will strike them down. Don’t ask them for directions; they will most likely lead you to your deaths.” At this, Loki nodded. Nick continued on with the plan. “Find the suit and the gun. I would prefer it if you could bring them back here, but if that isn’t possible, I expect them to be destroyed beyond all repair.” He stared at Tony, looking for some affirmation.

           

“Don’t destroy them, if possible,” Tony replied to the look. “I could use the analysis on them.”

           

Bruce gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t expect that from the Other Guy.”

           

Tony clapped him companionably on the shoulder. “He’ll be too busy smashing mini-Godzillas.”

           

Fury rounded on him. “Tony, I know what happened when you returned to Afghanistan. I expect you to not lose your head and go about exacting revenge for your imprisonment this time. This mission is to retrieve your tech, not to start another war.”

           

“I think Loki did a fair job of revenge already,” Tony replied quietly, looking to the god, trying to gage his expression. It remained unreadable as the Avengers turned their attention to him.

           

“Loki,” Steve addressed the god, “do you have any last advice on the Chitauri that we may not know?”

           

Those green eyes were dark, Tony catching just the slightest shadow of a haunting memory in their depths. “Do not get captured by them.” He swept a glance at each of them in turn. “A mortal would not survive what they put me through, and that is the exact treatment that you will get.”

           

“Good to know,” Clint replied, hand finally relaxed away from his bow.

           

Fury continued with the plan. “After you find the tech, Loki, you will transport them all back here.”

           

Loki nodded, the haunted look gone. “Assuming we are all still in one place, I will take us back here all together, just as before. Just know, if my energy is too spent, I will not be able to go back for stragglers. It would take me a number of hours to recover enough in order to retrieve you, and by then you may already have fallen.” He swept his gaze about the room once more, face set in all seriousness. “Do not fall behind.”

           

“I appreciate the forewarning,” the director nodded. “Are we all clear on the plan?” After a general consensus, he turned back to the god. “Loki, are you prepared?”

           

He stood, replacing the golden horned helmet on his head. “I am.”

           

Tony spoke up, “What do you need us to do?”

           

“Suit up, Stark,” Loki said shortly. “I trust you were able to upgrade your system.”

           

“Better than ever,” Tony replied with a satisfied grin. “Be right back.”

           

Soon, everyone, including Tony, was properly suited up and surrounding Loki in the center of the large room.

           

“There needs to be tactile contact for this to work,” Loki explained. “It would be best for you all to hold me, but it can also work if you are holding on to another who is connected to me somehow.”

           

Tony, mask not flipped down just yet, stretched an armored hand out and clapped it gently on the god’s shoulder. Loki flashed him the briefest of grins. The rest of the Avengers followed suit, pressing a hand to the god’s shoulder or back, but also connecting securely to the Avenger beside them.

           

Director Fury stood a few feet away and addressed the interwoven group. “Avengers, I expect everyone to come back alive. And don’t do anything stupid.”

           

Loki nodded and swept his gaze about all of the Avengers. “Are you all prepared?”

           

There were some tight nods. Tony lowered his mask, the screen flickering to life as it latched securely shut. “Beam us up, Scotty.”

           

There was a rush, not unlike the one Tony experienced when riding Sleipnir, though this time his heart was not failing and he was securely in his Iron Man suit. His screen flickered, Loki’s face dark but still visible before him, brow set in concentration. His feet found solid ground, and suddenly gravity was upon him again. His screen flickered once again, then steadily regained focus.

           

“Jarvis?” Tony ventured.

           

“Systems are fully functioning, sir.”

           

Tony looked around. The Avengers were regaining their bearings, also staring around the cavern-like hallway, lit with those damned green and orange lights. Tony looked to Loki, whose eyes burned with hatred at the place.

           

Tony did not take his hand off of Loki’s shoulder, as the others had done instantly. “Loki,” he said steadily to the god, “go get Thor. We will wait here for you.” He stared up at him, though he could not see Tony behind the mask of his suit. Loki nodded and gently pushed Tony’s armored hand off of him.

           

“I will return momentarily,” he said shortly, and was gone.

           

Steve, or Captain America as he was now, took a sweeping inventory of their location. “We appear to be in a cave. I can see two directions that we can head in.” He turned to Tony. “Can you scan the area for your tech?”

           

Tony shook his head. “I can’t scan through this rock. We’ll just have to pick a way to go, or ask Loki if he knows the way when he-”

           

Suddenly, a burst of red cape swirled around, and Thor, the God of Thunder stood in their midst, Loki at his side.

           

Thor swept his gaze about the group, grin broad. “My friends! It is good to see you again.” His eyes came to rest on Tony. “Stark, it is even better to see that you are well.” He clapped a massive hand onto his armored shoulder.

           

“We must move,” Loki urged them down the tunnel to their right. “Follow me and stay on your guard.” Readily obeying, the Avengers followed in the god’s wake as he led them through the windy corridors constructed out of sharp, twisted rock, and found them to be quite destitute of enemies.

           

“How many of the Chitauri did you leave alive?” Clint asked of Loki, bow ready with a knocked arrow at his side.

           

“Enough to still be a formidable problem,” Loki replied tersely. “This is a mostly unused passageway. We will be coming upon the armory soon enough, so be prepared.”

           

Thor was next to question his brother. “This is where you stayed after you fell into the broken Bifrost?”

           

Loki sighed. “For the most part, yes. The Chitauri freely roam about the space between realms and I happened to find one of their colonies. With some… negotiation, I was able to stay.” Whatever kind of negotiation that was, he was not letting out.

           

“That’s how you know these passageways,” Bruce said, his voice tense.

           

“No,” Loki said shortly. “This is not the colony I found. I became acquainted with this area quite recently. This is the path they would take me when I was imprisoned with Stark. I came to know the twists and turns well, even blindfolded.” That left the Avengers in a tight silence. None wanted to bring up the implied fact that this was the path the god had been taken in order to get tortured. They moved in silence, the only sound coming from their footsteps. The tunnel suddenly opened into a broad cavern, dimly lit with those eerie orange and green lights. The porous rocky walls gave way in areas to show a dark sky shining with brilliant stars, though it provided no moonlight. Tony was not sure if they had moons in this area of space. There were several passages along the wall, and Loki chose the one just to the left. They continued on, and Tony grew suspicious that there were no Chitauri to be seen. The tunnel suddenly opened into a broad, open area with the sky spreading wide overhead. It was surrounded by tall, jagged rocky walls, and Tony saw a very familiar glint of crimson and gold piled in the far corner. On the opposite side of the wide rocky area, atop one of those stone tables Tony knew so well, that accursed gun that he had constructed sat.

           

Tony could have grinned. “Well that was luck-”

           

There was a savage, hissing cry and all Hell broke loose.

           

They were surrounded by raging Chitauri that seemed to appear out of nowhere. They frothed around them, boiling in from various cavern entrances hidden behind the jutting rock. The Avengers immediately sprang into action. Tony could hear the cacophony of bullet shots from Natasha, the whisper of arrows from Clint, the clang of Steve’s shield, the ring of Mjolnir from Thor, and the hiss of throwing knives from Loki. He added in his own repulsor blasts to the mix, trying his best to fend off the overwhelming flow of creatures wielding those damned taser spears or other wicked-looking weapons. He saw the huge, raging form of the Hulk tearing the creatures limb from limb, using the dead ones as clubs on the still living.

           

It was chaos, in that bleak landscape. They were barely holding their own against the onslaught of Chitauri. More than once, Tony had to come to the aid of a fellow Avenger, and in turn, he was aided if he was struck to the ground, which was too often for his own liking.

           

At one point, he found Loki at his side, tossing out knives that seemed to appear out of nowhere. With a quick analysis, Jarvis confirmed them to be made of ice. Frost giant, he reminded himself.

           

“How are your systems holding up?” The god called over the echoing noise of battle.

           

“Like a dream,” Tony replied, sending three Chitauri flying backwards with a double repulsor attack. “The upgrade appears to be working just fine. Nice ice thing, by the way.”

           

He saw Loki grin out of the corner of his vision, and they were separated once again. It was Captain America who found his way to Tony’s side next.

           

“There is no end to these things,” Steve called out, bashing one of the creatures full in its lizard-like face with his shield.

           

“You getting tired, old man?” Tony quipped, sending out more blasts from his glowing palms.

           

That brought a grin to the good captain’s face. “Not on your life.”

           

They fought on for what felt like hours, their enemies slowly dwindling in number, their corpses piling up on the stone floor. Tony was silently glad that they did not meet up with any of those huge whale creatures – Leviathans, he remembered – in this battle. That was just one less nuisance to deal with.

           

An ear-splitting cry of what appeared to be amusement caught the Avenger’s attention. When Tony turned, he saw a hooded and half-masked figure enter through one of the far cavern entrances. A deep fear jolted through him as he saw just what it was holding: the blue glowing scepter last seen wielded by their very own God of Mischief. How they got it out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. vault was anyone’s guess. The staff was pointed at the gathered group, who tensed as the minor Chitauri backed away, jeering at them. The Hulk charged forward, but was easily blasted away with a bright blue beam from the staff. The room grew silent as the leader stepped menacingly forward.

           

It spoke in a voice that screeched in amusement, crimson teeth flashing. “Loki, you return to us but now against us. Fickle god, you are. When will you switch sides again?”

           

Loki stepped forward, tense and ready to fight. “You will not speak to a god in such a manner, _huglausi dýr_.”

           

“Who is this, Brother?” Thor asked deeply, Mjolnir raised and ready.

           

“The Other,” Loki growled.

           

“The bastard who imprisoned us, no doubt,” Tony added, aiming his repulsors at the creature, charging them for a precisely aimed blast. He was rewarded with a blue blast exploding over his armored chest, sending him flying backwards to crash heavily onto the far wall. He looked up in time to see Loki lunge forward. The scene appeared to unravel in slow motion.                                        

           

As Loki leaped at his foe, The Other raised the scepter, point aiming just for Loki’s chest. The god’s green eyes widened and he tried to pull himself back, but was far too late. The tip barely pierced the leather of his armor, glowing bright blue. He convulsed once in silence and fell to the stone floor.

           

The Other laughed once again. “See the fickle god turn once again.”

           

Tony watched in horror as Loki raised himself from the ground and turned on the Avengers, eyes now glowing a bright blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, Loki’d again! Or would this be Other’d?  
> Old Norse translation: Huglausi dýr – cowardly beast.  
> I hope you guys are enjoying this! Only two chapters left, so be prepared.


	15. Fearful, Shameless

Tony pried himself away from the wall, going through a calming mantra of shit, shit, shit, shit. He watched as those bright blue eyes scanned the rocky area, a wickedly hungry grin crossing his visage. He rocketed forward towards Loki as the god formed a series of long ice knives in his palms, preparing to throw them at the most vulnerable members of his team: Natasha and Clint. Tony’s mind raged with unease. When they were in the cell, Loki had told him that a heart of mischief could not be controlled. Fucking lying god.

            Tony collided with the possessed god with enough force to send them both tumbling. Loki recovered first, locking a hand around Tony’s armored neck. His fingers crushed into the metal, and for the first time, Tony was truly terrified of the god. The first time he had been lifted like that by him, Loki had shown at least a little restraint. This time, none of the godly strength was held back, and all sense of humanity was gone from those glowing blue eyes. He was feral and not under his own control. It was the gaze of a god with nothing to lose, nothing to fear. The Other cared not if the humans died or not, so neither did Loki.

            Tony was lifted off of the floor by the grip, which was quite the feat as the suit weighed a good few hundred pounds. He could barely see the Avengers teaming up to fight off The Other, unable to turn his head away from the possessed god before him, expression twisted in an agonized grin. He was helpless. Fuck, he was helpless in his suit once again, at the hand of one who he called a friend and lover. But this was not Loki, he tried to remind himself. The Loki he knew would never – could not ever - have so much rage and hatred in his eyes while his mouth smiled in pleasure. It was wrong. It was all wrong. He struggled, but even with the power of his suit, he could not pull free from the grip.

            This was Loki of Asgard, the Author of Woes. And he was a fucking Norse god.

            The god’s other hand dropped the ice knife, shattering on the stone floor as it fell. The hand closed over his mask, fingers digging into the metal and sheering it free. The Iron Man mask was torn off, and Tony was faced with the harsh reality of the mesmerized Loki just before him. The mask was tossed aside, still sparking. That palm was then raised to press over his arc reactor and Loki’s lips moved in a spell that Tony could not hear. Those angry glowing eyes burned with murder. Somehow, Tony knew exactly what he was doing to his reactor, and he was _afraid_.

            “Loki, don’t-”

            He knew it was useless. His heart felt like it would burst with adrenalin. His chest convulsed as he felt the arc reactor losing power. Loki made no response, still pressing a palm to his glowing chest. He could vaguely hear one of his fellow Avengers calling out his name in the din of fighting, far beyond the ringing of his ears.

            “Loki-” In a desperate attempt to get through to him, he pulled the enchanted god close, pressing a fierce kiss to those snarling lips. Loki growled, retaliating with a swift, piercing bite. Tony pulled back with a cry, blood from a torn lip seeping onto his tongue and dripping down his chin. Still the enraged god said nothing, only chanting darkly and prying Tony’s energy from the reactor.

            Tony’s mind raged with what he refused to call fear, this thing stealing away his life nothing like the god he went to bed with. In truth, this was not Loki at all. It was The Other, locked away inside him. That gave Tony just enough courage to do what needed to be done. “Well, if that won’t work, Sleeping Beauty, try this one.” He placed a glowing palm on Loki’s forehead, sending as strong of a repulsor blast to the head as he could with his meager energy. Loki flew back, flipping in midair and landing in a kneeling position. Breathing hard, he looked up, blue eyes still glowing in fury. The golden horned helmet had flown off in the blast, his black locks just as wild as his expression. Tony gave him no second chance. He swooped forward and repeated the action, the god flying backwards, head cracking on the cold stone floor.

            Tony wiped his split lip with a metal finger, wincing at the pain from the deep gash. Damn, that guy had some sharp teeth. He stepped carefully over to Loki, the god’s eyes shut. As he raised his hand for yet another attack, those eyes opened wide.

            Green.

            The eyes were green again. Green and bleary. When they saw the glowing gauntlet pointed at his head, they widened, suddenly faced, in full consciousness, with the fury of Stark technology.

            Loki opened his mouth to speak, but he glanced over Tony’s shoulder and he seemed to instantly change his thought. “Tony, _move_ ,” he bellowed, rolling to his side and standing on unsteady legs. Tony turned and fired the repulsor blast before he knew exactly what it was that Loki was warning him of. The blast landed in the center of The Other’s chest, and he crumbled away from his attacking stance, as he had been preparing to pierce Tony through the metal of his suit.

            “Power levels dangerously low,” the static-softened voice of Jarvis said in Tony’s ear. “Motor function impaired.”

            Tony dropped to one knee, the suit suddenly heavy. “Oh shit.”

            The Other, already recovered from the blast, raised the scepter high and placed the point just between Tony’s wide, defiant eyes. “Perish, human,” it rumbled.

            Just then, he was swept off of his knees and away from imminent death. Tony looked up to see that it was the Hulk, bloodied and weary, clutching him and bounding away from The Other. He was dumped unceremoniously to the ground, unable to move in his heavy, unmoving suit. There was a loud thud next to him, and when he looked, a very much unconscious Bruce was laying atop the carnage of dead aliens. Over the twisted bodies of Chitauri, Tony could see Clint and Natasha, stooped and exhausted. Captain America was at his side instantly, tears in his suit seeping blood.

            “Tony, are you alright?”

            “Not enough power to move my suit. Other than that, I’m perfectly okay. Loki, I’m not so sure of anymore.”

            They glanced over to the god, facing off with The Other, slowly circling one another.

            Steve tensed. “Whose side is he on? First, he attacked you, now he is going after the big guy.”

            “Mind control,” Tony replied tersely. “Damn, that god knows too much about my reactor.” He glanced around as much as his unmoving suit would allow. “Where is Thor?”

            “He is holding the hoard in the back tunnel. Natasha and Clint are down, though not too seriously injured. Bruce is out-”

            A guttural laugh cut the captain off, and the two looked to the far corner of the room. The Other stood well across the rocky expanse, Loki contorting before him, his face twisted in some kind of unbearable pain. Tony gritted his teeth, furious that he could not move and go to his aid. He saw Loki’s eyes harden, and he formed words with his mouth. His agony appeared to stop, and he raised both hands up to The Other, the force of the spoken spell staggering his opponent. For a moment, Loki was the insane god once more, grin cracking his angered expression, murder set deep in his gaze.

            Tony had forgotten that this was a vengeful god, not just the broken Loki he knew how to comfort so well, and who comforted him in return. In all of their long time together, Tony had never experienced that wrath, that bloodlust. It was worse than the possessed blue eyes, because he knew that this was the true Loki with his fury finally unleashed.

            It terrified him. There, he admitted it. He was terrified of his own lover. Perhaps that was for the best. This finally put everything in perspective. Loki was a powerful god, and he did not relinquish his hold on someone until they-

            The Other shrieked. It pained Tony’s ears to hear such agony, even from a foe. Loki’s outstretched hands were now wrapped around its hooded head. The god was speaking, and Tony did not need to know exactly what he said to get the general idea. Loki was making The Other feel all of his tortured pain firsthand, and in one maddening mental blast. Tears glistened on Loki’s cheeks, gone unnoticed as he raged on.

            “Should we stop him?” Steve was clearly rattled by the display, voice soft and shaking.

            “No,” Tony replied immediately. “This is who he is, or at least a part of it. He needs this.” He paused, the shrieks slowly rasping into softer cries. He almost, _almost_ felt the need to add a little pain of his own to the god’s attack. “We need this.” That earned him a long, hard look from Captain America.

            The shrieking of the Chitauri’s leader petered out weakly. Loki stood, still clutching its head in his hands, its body limp, the god’s eyes clenched tight. Tony’s heart constricted when he noticed that he was trembling. The moment did not last long. Loki tossed The Other across the room with an almost effortless motion. The obviously dead leader of the Chitauri tumbled and skidded far across the wide room, stopping with a sickening thud on the far wall. That was when Loki’s eyes fell upon the glowing scepter. He bent, retrieving it from whence it fell from his enemy’s grasp.

            Desire flickered across Loki’s expression; desire for power, for recognition. His gaze hardened then, staring into the glowing blue orb that held so much power, so much trickery and so much death. For one swift moment, he looked as though he were going to continue on as he left off before his army was defeated by the Avengers in New York. Tony saw the longing for a world to rule as he saw fit, even though the god had told him that was not what he desired.

            Loki cradled the scepter in his hands, gazing longingly, eyes full of uncertainty, into its glowing depths. He was being swallowed by the temptation.

            “Loki,” Tony called to him softly through the unbearable silence. Something in the god snapped, and in one deliberate and swift motion, the orb was cracked down onto the stone floor at his feet, a wave of hot heat exploding out of it, blinding all who dared look.

            When Tony’s eyesight cleared, Loki was down on his knees, an empty and broken expression tearing at him.

            “Loki,” he called again, and those haunted green eyes glanced towards him, softening as he focused on the man.

            “Tony,” he replied meekly, somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. The soft voice carried and echoed through the open cavern easily in the after battle din. He crawled towards Tony. This was a long and tedious process, as all the dead Chitauri hindered his progress. This deterred him little, and soon he was crouched over Tony, Steve wisely keeping his distance, muttering something about finding Thor as he left. Loki brushed a thumb over Tony’s broken lip and whispered a few words of a spell. The ache died away, and the finger was soon replaced by tight, quivering lips. Tony received him without thought. This was the Loki he knew so well, and he welcomed the gentle touch with a deep sigh of relief. He had come so close to going back over that cliff of insanity once again.

            “Good to have you back,” Tony said quietly as Loki pulled back.

            “Your suit-”

            “Not enough power.” As Loki looked away guiltily, Tony stared at him sternly. “You weren’t _you_.”

            Loki shook his head, placing the same palm that had taken his power away on to Tony’s armored chest, covering the weak glow of the reactor. “I wanted to end you.”

            “Loki-”

            The god murmured a spell, and Tony could feel the arc reactor whirring, gaining energy. Neither of them heard the heavy footfalls, nor did they see his approach. Loki was suddenly hauled to his feet, the strong hands of his brother throwing him to the ground, pinning him between the dead Chitauri and Mjolnir.

            That deep, booming voice rang with mistrust. “Brother, you dare not harm Stark.” Loki struggled, but his meager efforts proved useless to Thor’s strength. He cringed and coughed, weakened arms collapsing from his exertion.

            Tony tested out his suit and found he could freely move once more. He stood slowly, holding a calming hand out to the God of Thunder. “The scepter is destroyed. Loki is himself.”

            “Is that so?” Thor addressed his brother, laying slack below his grip, lacking the strength even to try to push him away.

            “I destroyed it, and The Other,” Loki replied softly, not meeting his brother’s piercing gaze. Thor released him and stood, and Loki remained motionless. Tony stooped by the fallen god’s side, pulled him up and held him in his metal-clad arms, being as gentle as possible in the suit. “I must get you back,” Loki said softly, only loud enough for Tony to hear.

            The man nodded. “Thor, get the others. Steve, get my suit and the gun. We are going back.” With all of the Avengers gathered, Loki still hanging limply in Tony’s gentle grasp, he addressed the spent god. “Loki, are you ready to take us back?”

            “It must be now. I grow weak,” Loki replied softly.

            “Grab hold of me,” Tony told the Avengers. They readily complied, and soon they were rushing back through the space between realms, landing whence they came, the bright afternoon light a welcome but painful sight.

            Loki drooped in his grasp, pulling in short, raspy breaths.

            “Brother!” After depositing Bruce onto a couch, Thor was instantly at Tony’s side, but he refused to relinquish his hold on the god. Instead, he took the limp Loki and laid him delicately on one of the long sofas.

            Those green eyes remained shut for the time being, and Tony was forced to leave his side to remove the suit, returning as soon as it was off. Nick Fury obviously wanted answers, but Tony remained silent, attention only on the unconscious god he was diligently crouching beside. The others filled the director in with the details of the battle. When the bit about Loki getting taken over came about, Fury tensed. That was when Tony cut in to the conversation.

            “A few quick blows to the head, and he was right as rain,” Tony said hollowly, not taking his eyes off of the god.

            “He-” Steve started, and faltered.

            “He tortured the damn thing to death, that’s what he did,” Clint ground out, sprawled on the remaining couch beside Natasha, equally exhausted. “I may have been unable to fight, but I still saw.”

            “He saved us, that’s what he did,” Natasha spoke up harshly in Loki’s defense. “Then he broke the scepter.”

            Fury stared at each of them in turn. “Tell me exactly what he did. Tony?” All Tony could manage was a stiff shake of his head in response. He would have kicked himself for being so sentimental over one person, but in the aftershock of battle, he really did not give a damn.

            “My brother was not himself in his attack on us,” Thor explained. “He fought bravely by our side and did not falter at all other times.” He looked upon Tony, deep concern lacing his words. “Friend Tony, are you alright?”

            “I’m always alright,” he replied quickly, though his hands shook as they gripped his knees, for lack of anything better to do. Fucking hell, he had just seen his lover torture his enemy to death in a bout of crazed revenge, and saw him teetering on the precipice of insanity before almost blowing up. Not to mention that Loki had tried to _kill_ him not long before that. No, he was definitely _not_ okay.

            The Avengers fell silent, tension rising in the sunlit room. Tony’s chest clenched as Loki stirred. All the others appeared to notice at the same time as him, though none besides him reached a hand out to place on the god’s armor clad shoulder.

            Those green eyes stared into Tony’s brown, such shame and hurt coursing between them, but caring also. Loki coughed, cringing as he did so. “I must return to Asgard,” he rasped.

            “Take me with you,” Tony replied before he realized he even knew he wanted to.

            “I cannot,” Loki turned away from the disappointment and desperation Tony knew was showing on his face. It was disgusting, Tony knew, but fucking hell, Loki was _dying_.

            Loki was reluctant to go on, but he did so out of necessity. “I barely have enough energy to take myself and Thor.” Tony ignored the hot tears building in his eyes, though they never fell. A wet cough appeared to make Loki more desperate. “I must go now.”

            “No-” Tony hated the weakness in his own voice.

            “Tony,” Thor stepped forward, becoming still more concerned for his comrade.

            “Please, Tony.” Loki pulled him close, whispering words for only him to hear, “If you trust me, as I do you, you will let me return to Asgard to heal.” He cringed in pain. “Know that you are beloved to me. Please, let me go.” That startled Tony enough to be allowed to be shoved back by the god. “I will return,” Loki said, his voice stronger, and directed his attention away to Thor. “Brother.”

            Thor kneeled at his brother’s side, not taking his gaze off of Tony’s red, wet eyes. “I will see him well, friend Tony.” He placed a large hand on Loki’s shoulder, his arm weakly grasped in return. Tony and Loki shared a deep, meaningful gaze, and in a blink, the gods were gone. Tony stared at the barren cushion where the god had lain, so many emotions spreading through him that he could not seem to rest on just one. He felt like crying, like screaming, like running away. He felt like sleeping for a week, and never going to bed again. But most of all, he felt like he needed a drink.

            Tony stood on legs that did not feel like his own. They carried him to the bar, all eyes carefully watching him, though no one spoke. He poured himself a glass of scotch and downed it in one go. He was so consumed in himself, his own thoughts raging, that he did not see Natasha approach. She sat on one of the high stools of the bar, staring intently at the confused man drinking scotch like it was water, not tasting it as it went burning down his throat.

            “Tony,” she said carefully. That caught his attention and held it for a moment, the hand holding the half-full glass shaking. “Loki is not just your friend, is he?”

            The gentle words struck Tony like a blow to the chest. He had to grin, though it showed no mirth. “What gave it away?” He sounded empty, even to his own ears. He needed to leave. He needed to be alone, away from those prying eyes, those confused looks, that accusing air. He walked out from behind the bar, bottle in hand, glass left behind, and picked up his created gun from where it had been left on the floor. He stared blankly at nothing in particular, not daring a glance at any of his comrades.

            Steve stepped towards him, reaching a steady hand out, looking more than a little worried. “Tony,” he began, “Maybe you should-” but the man cut him off.

            “I’ll be in the lab,” Tony said shortly, and he retreated down the steps, away from the weakened and battle-weary Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, what, the third time Loki has almost died? Sheesh. What. A. Pussy. …Not really.  
> Well, just one chapter left!


	16. Codependency is a Bitch, and the Unsaid Word

He had to do _something_. He was not nearly as drunk as he felt he should be, and he needed a distraction, from the adrenalin rush and sequential fall, from the ache in his chest that had little to do with his reactor recharging. Loki was dying, that much was clear. He was back in Asgard, or at least Tony hoped he had made it there. That little bit of not being able to heal himself while on Earth went unsaid, but Tony knew. By now, he knew. He knew so much about the god. He knew that the god cared far too much about what others thought of him. He knew how deep that need to be recognized as someone of worth ran, and he shared that with the god. He knew that Loki’s kisses came few and far between, but when they met… those were special moments. They were the times when all doubt left Tony, and he was lost in Loki’s impassioned embrace. The kisses were never a lie. They may come from lying and deceiving lips, but the action itself was always a pure truth: I want you beside me, it said, and I welcome you to me.

            Tony knew the god was dying, and he could do nothing to help. Powerless. A man of such wealth and genius, with so much at his fingertips, could do nothing for the one who mattered to him the most. Was that not always the way?

            Tony found himself deep in the disassembled gun when he finally became aware of himself. Jarvis was doing a complete scan on the parts while Tony’s fingers automatically typed in code at the desk.

            What the hell was he doing? He took a step back and stumbled, catching himself, the world spinning. The much depleted bottle of scotch just beside the disassembled gun was a telltale sign of just why he was so disoriented. He groaned, smoothing a hand down his face. He found a chair and sank into it, mind raging on drunkenly. He may have heard a knock at the glass door, but he ignored it and soon it went away.

            Tony knew not how long he spent in his lab. With his mind going in circles, it could have been a matter of minutes, or it could have been days. When he was too hungry to stand, he would root around in the mini fridge he kept for late night projects. When he grew too weary to keep his eyes open, he dozed in his chair. He would speak to Jarvis every so often, but the computer was a poor replacement for the one he really needed at his side.

            Again, codependency is a bitch.

            It was four days, or so Tony thought, since he had slept something like four times, before another knock came at the glass door. This time, Tony graced the knocker with his attention. Bruce stood there, looking rather better than he had before. The various cuts and bruises appeared to be healing nicely. He was holding a carafe full of coffee and two mugs. Some sort of peace offering, or condolence. Tony pressed that last one far out of his mind as he ordered Jarvis to unlock the door for his fellow scientist.

            Bruce stepped in, placing the mugs on the table. “Tony, I hope you aren’t spiraling into a catatonic state.” Tony looked upon his friend with empty eyes, shoulders pitifully stooped forward. Loki would have been appalled. Even that thought made Tony’s chest clench painfully. Bruce winced at the display. “Okay, you already are.” He poured them a mug of coffee each, taking a seat by the sorrow-bent man.

            “Nice deduction, Doctor Espresso.” The mug nearest Tony was picked up by a numb hand. The coffee burnt his tongue, but he did not feel it, drinking on.

            Bruce tried to do the same, but flinched back at the heat. He stared at Tony, worry growing in his eyes. “I’m not a therapist, but you look like you need to talk. Do you want to talk?”

            “I do better with these things on my own,” Tony replied blandly, still sucking down the piping hot drink. It warmed his stomach, but did little to warm his weary heart.

            He got a scoff for that. “Yeah, you are doing a great job of it so far. You’ve already missed two meetings. Fury is even starting to worry about you.”

            “Let him worry,” Tony growled. That sent Bruce into a prolonged silence. They drank their beverages quietly, not making eye contact.

            The next time Bruce spoke, after finishing his own cup of coffee and refilling it, his voice was delicate. “In the past two meetings, we discussed making Loki an Avenger.”

            That brought Tony back to awareness. “You-  what?”

            Bruce shrugged. “It was Steve’s idea. Even Fury is coming around to it.”

            “But, how?” It could not be. This was yet another one of his hallucinations that he had been prone to in the past few days of spiraling. It had to be.

            Tony leaned intently forward as Bruce explained. “Loki proved himself to be trustworthy and helpful in a pinch. This decision is almost unanimous. We just need you to come to the next meeting and agree.”

            Tony reeled back, mind racing. He came to one final conclusion and voiced it. “Is this just a ploy to get me out of the lab?”

            Bruce chuckled lowly at that. “For once, no. Though, it does do that as well.”

            “What if he doesn’t come back?” Tony hated how soft and broken he sounded, but that was the question that had been roiling in his mind. What if the god had perished? What if the blast from his repulsors and the breaking of the staff had done him in?

            “What was that little piece of knowledge you told us?” Bruce seemed to ponder dramatically for a very quick moment. “Oh yes. He is a god. He’ll live through it.”

            Tony’s gaze became distant once again. “He’d better, that… ass,” he finished lamely.

            “So, are you coming to the next meeting?” Bruce pried.

            “Yeah, sure,” Tony replied flippantly.

            “Don’t be drunk,” he warned the slightly less catatonic man.

            Tony shrugged. “Can’t guarantee that.” In fact, he was quite sober. The bottle of scotch had run out a while ago, and he had not bothered to grab another.

            Bruce stood, leaving the half empty pot of coffee behind. “Take a shower first. You reek of machine oil and,” he scrunched his nose, unable to finish. “Just clean up, Tony.” That earned him a one-finger salute as he walked out of the lab. Tony contemplated not bathing, just to spite the man, but in the end he did end up venturing up to his room and taking a shower, finally sleeping in his own bed, revisiting his time spent in that bed with the god in his arms before he fell asleep. That deep ache set in his chest once more, and it was still there when he woke to a bed destitute of his companion after yet another nightmare-plagued sleep.

            He ghosted his way to the meeting, not needing the usual wake-up call from Jarvis to bring him there. For once, Tony was not the last one in. In fact, it was only Steve and Bruce sitting at the long table, the agents and the director on their way.

            “Welcome back, Tony,” Steve said carefully as he sat in his usual chair.

            “And sober, too. What do you know,” Tony replied just a bit tersely. He still was not ready for the judging looks he knew he would get from his comrades. Who was he kidding? They knew he had been shacking it up with the Norse god after they saw that little display of affection just before he had returned to Asgard. There really was no use hiding it anymore, though he dared not bring it up on his own.

            The repaired cherry wood door opened, and Tony turned a lazy eye on it, suddenly sitting up straight as he saw who it was.

            “Pepper?” She tightened her lips as he said her name. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded half-heartedly.

            “Director Fury told me to come. He said you were going through something, and that you needed some support,” Pepper replied swiftly, taking a graceful seat at a chair far from him.

            Tony glanced at Bruce and Steve in turn. “That was… considerate? I thought you had left for good.”

            “I still have your company to run, Tony, and despite all that has happened,” she stared at him pointedly, “I do still care about you, whether you want me to or not.”

            “Caring. Caring is nice,” Tony replied quickly and was going to go on and say something else, but the doors opened once more and Clint, Natasha and Fury entered the room with an authoritative air.

            They sat, and Nick addressed the group, fingers in a steeple before him. “Avengers, I want to start out by saying good work, again, to you all.” He rounded on Tony. “You were the only one to not hear that at the previous meetings, so I thought I would say it again.” He was pissed at Tony’s absence, quite obviously. “Next on the agenda is what the hell you have been up to these past four days, Tony. Care to explain?”

            He rolled his eyes at the director. “Analyzing my atrocity of an invention in a booze-filled rage, obviously.”

            Steve sat forward, eying him worriedly. “I looked in on you a few times. You seemed upset.”

            “No, really? I hadn’t noticed,” Tony said bitterly. “Thank you Captain Obvious.”

            “Is it about Loki?” Natasha questioned softly. Damn it, she knew just how to ask those questions. Professional interrogator, Tony reminded himself.

            Tony scoffed. “What isn’t?”

            “What is your exact relationship to Loki?” Nick Fury’s question was hard, but still just that – a question.

            “What, you want to know the kinky details? Fury, I never pictured you as one of those types. I’m impressed.” Tony could see the anger blooming in the director’s eye, but it was held in check.

            Pepper was the one to speak next, voice shrill with disbelief. “Are you insane? He tried to blow up the whole city!”

            “I’m human,” Tony explained as mildly and as non-confrontational as possible, “and he happened to save my life. I think that’s reason enough to be friendly.”

            “Not _that_ friendly,” Clint said lowly, almost to himself.

            Tony shrugged. “That ass, how could I resist?”

            “Oh, god, Tony!” Pepper exclaimed, and the sentiment appeared to be universal. Too much information, apparently. At that moment, Tony did not give a flying fuck.

            “I really did not need to know more than you two being friendly,” Nick said uncomfortably.

            “What Director Fury wants to know is whether your decision about letting Loki join the Avengers will be influenced by your relationship with him,” Natasha cut in, ever the one with the most logical tongue.

            Tony thought on this for a moment and voiced his ideas on the matter. “Assuming he can do magic here, Loki is a competent healer. You saw that he is also an able fighter. He can also keep our drinks cold and provide adequate air conditioning,” Tony added flippantly. “So yes, I would recommend him for the Avengers, and not just because I’m fuc-”

            “Yes, we get the gist, Stark,” Nick Fury interjected sternly, saving Tony from further humility. Tony shrugged it off. “Very well. It is unanimous, then. Loki is officially a member of the Avengers, pending on whether he remains sane.” He turned back to Tony. “And now for the next item. You have been analyzing the gun that you created. What have you found?”

            Tony shrugged once again. “My genius, as usual, though I was imprisoned at the time, so it is a little less magnificent than I tend to expect of myself.” He was surprised that he was able to pull off being his usual cocky self, and finding it easy. Well, baby steps, right? He had to get over his dependency on the god somehow. “I’ve also been analyzing my old suit that ejected me. Apparently it was a side-effect from the portal and they were able to tap into that to get inside my suit. With no portal, they couldn’t get in the second time around, even though I had a backup system in place for just that occasion. There you go, problem solved.”

            “That’s what you’ve been doing for the past four days?” Steve did not seem to be able to comprehend it, but then again, he hardly understood how to turn on a computer.

            “Among other things,” Tony muttered.

            “Like moping?” Bruce interjected, raising an eyebrow.

            Tony massaged his temple with a hand. His voice was quiet, destitute. “He could be dead, for all I know.”

            To everyone’s surprise, it was Clint who spoke next. “If anyone can survive, it’s that bastard. He is pretty good at it.” In his own way, he was trying to comfort Tony in his despair that the genius was barely able to cover up. “If he can handle one of my explosive-tipped arrows and a major beating from the Hulk, he can live through anything.”

            “And if he can heal himself, as you said,” Steve added, “he’ll be fine in no time.”

            If only that were true, Tony thought. In fact, as the days wore on, that truth faded into the continued despair of the man. He passed his time by twiddling with various old projects of his, not really with purpose. It was something for him to _do_. This was what had helped him before, when he was trying to recover from Afghanistan. He had worked on his suit. Now, he was working on stupid projects that really did not distract him from the lack of his new support system.

            Despite everything, Tony eventually got into a steady rhythm of life. He eventually moved on from his old projects and began thinking of new advancements to upgrade his suit with. The ache of despair subsided in the following weeks, until all Tony could feel was numbness in his chest. He tried to think little of Loki, but every time he came to mind, that ache returned with a vengeance and wrenched its way into his heart. He refused to give the feeling a name, though he knew what some would call it. Tony Stark did not love, he thought to himself, so he refused to acknowledge the feeling. It was just a desire for comfort, he told himself. Just a desire to be accepted into that cool embrace.

            It was hard, but Tony blocked out his pain with work. He invented, he created, he built. At the end of each day, he fell exhausted into his bed and slept hard, only to awake in the morning and do the same thing all over again. He felt caged in his own tower, by his own hand. When this feeling got too unbearable to stand, he would take his suit out and fly until he felt free once again. He still attended the Avengers meetings when they came up, and he was visited by his comrades frequently. Even Pepper continued bringing him coffee and updates on Stark Industries.

            On the third week after the grand battle, Tony was deep in soldering wires together in a gauntlet of his suit when he heard a clatter of something metallic falling to the ground somewhere behind him.

            “Hey Dummy, that’d better not be you dropping my stuff,” he called back. That damn robot arm was always getting in the way. Tony stood slowly. Maybe he really should donate it to-

            Strong arms wrapped about his shoulders from behind him, and cool lips touched his ear. The soothing scent of evergreen and mint filled his senses.

            “Good to see you, _minn sváss_.”

            Tony turned, his breath caught in his throat, relief shuddering through him, heart thundering with such intense feeling that his knees felt weak. He clung to the god, fists balling in supple leather. Somehow, he refused to believe what his eyes were showing him. This could not be real. His daydreams had finally taken him over the edge of insanity, and now the visions of the god even _felt_ solid. He did not believe the smiling god still holding him close.

            He felt the steady heartbeat beneath his shaking hands, and suddenly it was _real_. “Loki,” he breathed. Tony pulled him down into a desperate, passionate kiss, which was received and reciprocated eagerly. Hands grasped and pulled, lips and tongues moving together anxiously and wantonly. It had only been three weeks, but to Tony, it felt like three years had passed since their last lusty embrace. He poured all of his fear, all of his waiting in tribulation, into that single meeting of lips. He was practically biting for more of the god’s mouth, but Loki pulled away slowly.

            Breathless, Tony stared deeply into those almost glowing green eyes. “You’re back. You are back, right?” he asked lamely, and was answered with a simple grin from the god.

            “As long as you want me,” Loki replied softly.

            Tony let out a sighing laugh. “Oh, I want you.” Words tumbled out of his mouth, shaking from his almost painful joy. “I- I missed you, you know? I spent so much time thinking, about you, about _this_ ,” he clutched at Loki, both wanting to avoid those soft green eyes and to never look away from them again. His gaze settled on darting every which way. “I may have come to some sort of… conclusion. It might just be the loneliness or the massive need for sex talking, but… I- I- think I-” he choked on the word. “Something with an ‘L’. It has an ‘L’ in it. At least I think it does.”

            The smile that broke across Loki’s cheeks was heartbreakingly beautiful in Tony’s eyes. “I know. I share your feeling.”

            “It starts with an ‘L’,” Tony repeated, unaware that he was still speaking, still trying to get out the sentiment that he really did not know he would be able to ever properly voice. “There might be an ‘O’.”

            Loki chuckled, clutching Tony tightly. “Indeed, something like that.”

            “You’re an Avenger,” Tony mumbled into the god’s shoulder, unable to release his hold on him. Not that he tried. He simply could not find any other words to say, so he went with the biggest news first.

            “I’m also alive,” he pointed out. Okay, the Avengers thing was the second biggest news.

            Tony laughed breathily. “Yeah.”

            “And _ást_.” Cool lips pressed to Tony’s neck. “You know what it means.” He did not need Jarvis to translate that one. It was the word that started with ‘L’ and had an ‘O’ in there somewhere.

            “That too.”

            They stared into one another’s eyes, exchanging the meaning they could not properly convey with their words. Their embrace was strong, and lasted as long as they could make it last. That sentiment followed through to everything they did from that moment on.

            One day, one kiss, one passionate embrace at a time; looking only at what lay just on the horizon, taking in each moment as it came. The future was a distant and frivolous concept that they wished not to dwell on, instead focusing on what they shared in the moment: trust, companionship, lust, and, though remaining unsaid, love.

            And so their lives went on as such, simply living and thriving as they struggled forward, each step bringing trouble and, in equal measure, unbearable pleasure. They brought each other the recognition that they both strove to earn, and also comfort and soothing from the hurts that ran too deep to heal.

            Enemies became comrades, and comrades became friends, slowly but surely building a strong bond of trust. Loki, God of Lies and Mischief, had been tamed and released from his seemingly unending imprisonment, and Tony Stark, Iron Man, had been the one to do it, and the god had done the same for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me in a collective “AWWWW!”  
> Old Norse translation: minn sváss – my beloved, ást – love.  
> And that’s it! Thanks for sticking with me until the end, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Again, thank you for all your glorious reviews!


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